


One of Us

by jncar



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 22:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 47,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4454912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jncar/pseuds/jncar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lost had been found and the Broken had been healed, but Fate was a tricky bitch, and always found a way to get what she wanted. Part canon-divergence AU, part landlord/renter AU, and part cop/reformed criminal AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This AU idea has been stuck in my mind for a long time, and CS AU week seemed like the best time to get it out. The focus is Captain Swan, but the listed pairings play a role. Part 2 is underway and will be up no later than next week. (And no, I haven’t abandoned my Dark Emma fic. Or Prairie Sky. Stay tuned for more.)

Once upon a time a desperate boy chose to forgive a pirate. Together they fought off their foes and led their crew away from the island that tried to trap them. They kept trying to escape that land for centuries, and along the way, they became a family.

Eventually, they found a way to another land. A land without magic. 

*~*

Once upon a time a lost girl chose to forgive the desperate woman who offered to be her sister. The woman stopped raving about magic, and instead became the home the girl had always wanted. Together they found new, better lives.

*~*

Once upon a time a twenty-six year old Boston police officer named Emma bought her first house. She and her foster mother toasted the occasion with champagne. Their relationship had issues, but Emma still shared all her most special moments with Ingrid.

For the next three months Emma worked hard and long to finish the basement apartment that tantalized with the promise of covering more than half her mortgage payment with the rental income. And when she was done she hung a sign on her front gate and put a listing online.

After the first half-dozen calls she began to wonder if the landlord gig was such a good idea after all—all the lookers had been definite, immediate NOs. Then she got another call—this one from a middle-aged man with a faintly British accent. He’d just gotten the manager job at a convenience store in her area, and he and his adult son were looking for a place in the area to live. He was trying to get his son away from some bad influences in their current neighborhood.

“Well,” Emma answered, “I’m a cop, so if I was him I’d hesitate to pull any crap while living in my basement.”

The man laughed. He said it sounded perfect, and could he come see the place? They set a time, and Emma thought maybe she’d found the right tenant.

*~*

Bae still didn’t think they needed to move. Killian disagreed.

They’d survived the first year and a half in this realm by stealing and conning their way through life. But once Killian had a clear idea of what prisons were like in this land—and of how dogged and effective the law enforcement could be (better by far than any he’d encountered in other realms)—he’d realized that their only chance for a happy shot at mortality would be to go straight. No more crime. Nothing but an honest day’s work from there on out. His last act as a lawbreaker had been to use his underworld contacts to build new identities and get the legal papers they’d need to get proper jobs.

He and Bae had made a deal. They were in this together.

Killian had kept his end of the bargain. Bae, on the other hand…

Killian wanted to blame it on the lad’s so-called-friends. He hoped that was all it was. But Bae had been lucky to get off with community service and probation. Next time wouldn’t be so easy.

“It’s a better neighborhood,” Killian insisted. “You’ll find a better job there. And better friends.”

Bae only scowled. “Now I’ll have to take a train every time I want to hang with my boys. This is a joke.”

Killian frowned. “Get yourself a proper job and maybe you can buy a car. Until then, I’m the one paying the bills, so we live where I say we live.”

He hoped that would be the end of it, though he feared it wouldn’t be.

The next day he drove out to the new neighborhood to look at three different apartments.

He hadn’t been too thrilled by the prospect of living in a basement—though the price was right—but the instant he got one look at the prospective landlady, he knew this was the place.

Though there were pretty ladies by the hundreds everywhere he went in this land without magic, he’d never seen anyone who took his breath away quite like Emma Swan.

*~*

Emma couldn’t have been more startled when her British expat—one Killian Jones—showed up for his apartment tour. As a convenience store manager with a grown son, she’d been expecting someone in his mid-forties, a bit round about the middle. The stunningly handsome man who, on his rental application, claimed to be thirty-four, was the furthest thing from her imagination. She was so distracted by his vivid blue eyes and charming smile that it took her nearly five minutes to notice the hook-shaped prosthetic he wore in place of his left hand.

“Oh,” she said in surprise when her eyes fixed on it. “Are you a veteran?” It was the first thing that had popped into her mind.

“Aye,” he replied, his accent seeming thicker. “I served in the Navy for a bit, and then on commercial vessels. But this was just from a dumb accident.” He raised the hook, which, she noticed, could open to grasp things when he moved it just so. “It drove me to land, though,” he said. “Couldn’t keep up with the jobs at sea after this.”

“Hence your current line of work,” she said. She’d wondered how a man as charming as him could have ended up in such a dreary occupation. Still, she felt a familiar tingle at the back of her neck that she always got when someone lied to her.

“Exactly,” he replied.

She tried not to be too distracted by the nagging sensation that some of his story wasn’t exactly true as she showed him the apartment and interviewed him a little more. All the references he’d emailed in advance had checked out, as had her quick background check. He had clean credit, a good work history, and always paid his rent on time. On paper he seemed like the perfect tenant. But his son had come up with a recent conviction on his record when she ran a background check. Maybe that’s why her inner alarms were going off.

“That’s why I’m so eager to move. Get him some new friends and a fresh start,” Killian said, when she asked. “He made a foolish mistake, and I want him to do better from here on out.”

Emma squeezed her lips together and folded her arms across her chest. His sentiment about his son rang true. But something else was still off. “You’re too young to have an almost-nineteen year old son,” she prodded.

Killian’s face grew somber. “He’s not mine by birth. I was with Baylor’s mother after she left her husband. When she died, Bay stayed with me. I loved his mother, and I love him. He doesn’t have to be my blood to be family.”

The story tugged at her heart. This kid was exactly where she’d been—a troubled childhood, but a shot at a second chance with a foster parent who loved him. 

Emma was a strong believer in second chances.

Maybe this was foolish, but…

She took a deep breath. “I want to rent you this apartment, Mr. Jones. I want Bay to have his second chance. But first you need to do something for me.”

Killian raised a questioning eyebrow. “What?”

“Stop lying to me.” 

He looked startled, and his mouth fell open.

Emma spoke again before he could say anything. “You see, I have kind of a super power. I can nearly always tell when someone is lying to me. And even though everything you’ve given me checks out, something about your story is ringing all my bells. You’re hiding something. I don’t care what it is, as long as you’re no threat to me. But if you don’t tell me the truth right now there’s no way in hell I’m giving you this apartment.”

*~*

Killian knew rationally that this was the moment to walk away. To rent somewhere else. But something about her drew him in—almost like she’d spun a spell around him.

He couldn’t tell her the full truth, of course. She’d think him a madman. But, no matter how irrational it might be, he wanted her to trust him.

He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders. “I was a criminal,” he said. “I didn’t lie about the Navy, but after I got out I took up a life of crime—on and off the waters. And when I got together with Bay’s mum, I pulled her into that life along with me. It’s what got her killed. But I vowed that I’d never let that happen to Bay. And when I saw him starting to get into trouble—to follow my bad example—I vowed to change. And I have changed. I’ve gone straight. I confess that some of my past as I’ve presented it to you is a fabrication. Not even my employers know the truth. But I did it for Bay. To give him his best chance. And for nearly four years now I’ve been a good, hardworking, trustworthy employee. I earned the new job on my own merits. I swear on my heart I’m not going back to my old ways. I’m a reformed man.” He swallowed. Her eyes studied him, but he couldn’t read what they saw. Was he building his own cell here? Or could she see the man of honor behind the old pirate?

“I truly do want the best in this life for Bay,” he continued. “I wasn’t what I ought to have been when he was younger, but I am now, and I’m determined to set him on a straight path. Get him his GED and get him into college. I want the best for him. That’s all.” Killian lifted his chin again and met her gaze.

Slowly, she nodded. “Thank you. I believe you.” She stepped toward him and offered her hand. “The apartment is yours, if you want it.”

Killian could hardly believe his ears. “It is?”

“It is.”

He reached out to shake her hand before she could change her mind, and a warm thrill ran through him at the feeling of her firm grip.

He shook his head and couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”

She smiled, and his heart skipped a beat.

“I grew up in the foster system, moving from home to home every few months for my whole life,” she said. “Until I was fourteen, and my foster mom gave me a second chance at a real life when I needed it the most and adopted me. I’m a firm believer in fresh starts and second chances. As long you and Bay are working hard on yours, you’re welcome to live here. On one condition.”

He managed to regain his power of speech after being mesmerized by her story. This was a woman he could understand—and one who could understand him. Maybe fate had a hand in leading him here. “What condition?”

She smiled again. “Bay has to let me tutor him for his GED. And if you never graduated, you have to join in and study to get yours, too.”

He sucked in a deep breath. If fate had brought him here, he must have done something to please the gods. She was simply amazing. “I confess I never did finish my schooling,” he admitted. He tilted his head and flashed a grin. “Are you sure you’re up to the task? We can be quite a handful.”

She smirked and nodded. “I think I’ll manage.”

*~*

Emma helped her new tenants move in a week later. Bay, a young man who was clearly still just a boy at heart, was very much like she expected him to be. With his disheveled mop of brown hair and his large puppy-dog eyes he was handsome (though not as handsome as his foster dad), but he insisted on wearing a sullen frown for the first hour of the move.

Eventually he began to soften to her attempts at conversation, and before the end of the day she finally got a glimpse of the smile that she was certain had already broken several hearts.

With his stubborn “I know best” attitude and his reluctance to trust he reminded Emma so much of the girl she used to be. She’d held onto that attitude for several years after her adoption, and she wasn’t surprised to find Bay still clinging to it several years after his dad’s attempt to go straight.

The more she saw of him the more she wanted to help him. And seeing his dad’s obvious love and affection for the young man reassured her that her impulsive decision to rent to a pair with a shady past wasn’t a mistake.

Plus, from the many boxes of books on topics ranging from science and engineering to history and poetry (plus a well-worn stack of science fiction paperbacks), she guessed that tutoring them for the GED wouldn’t be too hard a job, either.

She doubted Ingrid would approve of her decision, if she knew all the facts. But this was Emma’s home and Emma’s choice, and she was happy with it.

*~*

Killian started his new job a few days after moving in, and was startled that afternoon when Emma and her partner, a middle-aged man, turned up in full uniform at his store.

He blinked in surprise and grinned at the sight of her in her blue uniform bedecked with a shiny badge, her weapon holstered at her side. “You’re looking lovely today, Swan,” he said. At the sight of her amused smile he added. “I always had a thing for women in uniform.” That earned him a laugh.

She introduced her partner, Officer Martinez, and said, “I thought we’d stop in and say hello when I realized that you’re on our beat.”

“You can drop by my store anytime, love,” he replied.

And she did. By the end of the week a midmorning drop-in for some small talk and two large coffees (on the house) had become a ritual. One he looked forward to with bated breath.

Falling for the landlady might not be the wisest thing he’d ever done, but after so many years of clinging to his memories of Milah it felt like a revelation to discover he might finally be able to move on.

*~ *

Bay and Killian had both worn sour looks on their faces when Emma dropped a tall stack of GED prep books on their kitchen table, but the weekly study sessions had quickly turned into anticipated occasions. Killian always had a box of donuts ready and waiting when she arrived (it had taken him all of two days to discover donuts were her guilty pleasure—such a cliché, but she couldn’t help herself), and the three of them would study for several hours before he pulled out the beers. (Emma turned a blind eye to Bay taking one, too. She hadn’t waited until she was 21 to start drinking, either—much to Ingrid’s chagrin—and better he do it at home than out with his friends.) For the rest of the night, until she was too tired to think and had to stumble up the stairs to home, they’d simply talk. Even Bay would open up about his thoughts and feelings—the way he missed his old friends, and his frustrations finding a job with a conviction on his record.

“I know a few of the construction site managers in the area,” Emma said after a long and frustrated vent from Bay. “I’ve helped out with site thefts and vandalism. They owe me some favors. I know you don’t want to do construction anymore, but it’ll help keep the bills paid while you get your GED and get yourself through college. I can ask around, see if any of them have a place for you.”

Bay stared at her with wide, nervous eyes. “You’d really do that?”

“Sure,” she said, as nonchalantly as she could. She remembered feeling shocked every time someone other than Ingrid did something nice for her for a few years after the adoption. Adapting to change can be hard—but it was worth it.

Bay nodded, his features settling into typical teen apathy, but she could still see the gratitude in his eyes. “Cool. Thanks.”

Emma nodded and glanced over at Killian. He wore a soft smile on his face and his eyes glowed as he looked at her in a way that made her core flare with heat.

Damn it—she hadn’t let them rent here to get laid. She’d done it to help them get a fresh start. Her stupid hormones needed to cool it and let her just be the friend and benefactor she wanted to be without complicating things.

She left herself a few minutes later, using an early pre-shift meeting as an excuse. But thoughts of Killian’s smile and his captivating eyes lingered in her mind long after she went to bed.

A little over a week later she discovered that Killian liked to play soccer in the neighborhood park with a few “mates,” as he called them, after work a few times a week.

Emma usually went for a run through the neighborhood after her shift, and when she ran past the park she saw him there with his friends, grinning and laughing as they played. God he was stunning in his tight tee shirt with his smile like the sun and sweat glistening on his forehead.

She didn’t stop running the first time she saw him like that, but soon enough, on the nights she knew he’d be there, she structured her run to have a natural break right there at the park so she could drop in and say hello for a few minutes before her jog home.

She tried to convince herself that it was just a friendly-neighbor gesture, but deep down she knew better.

*~*

Killian was pleasantly surprised when he was invited to Emma’s twenty-seventh birthday party, in late October. Donna, a friend from Emma’s police district, threw the party at her house, but only a handful of close friends and family were invited—including Emma’s foster mother, Ingrid.

Killian made sure to dress in his best trousers and a very nice leather waistcoat, and bought a new shirt for the occasion. He felt the urge to make a good impression on Emma’s friends—and especially on her only family in the world. 

Donna’s eyes lit up when Killian arrived, a bottle of wine in hand. “So you’re the renter Emma’s told me so much about.” She looked him up and down as if appraising a new car.

Killian smiled. “She talks about me, does she?”

“Uh huh,” Donna replied, taking the wine and nodding in agreement. “And I can see why. Come on in.”

Killian’s face felt pleasantly warm at both Donna’s clear approval and at the insinuation that Emma thought enough of him to speak of him with her friends. Perhaps his romantic aspirations had a stronger foundation than he’d known.

Still, his nerves flared when Emma introduced him to Ingrid, and he met with the woman’s cold stare. She was younger than he expected—no more than fifteen years Emma’s elder. Emma had once told him their relationship was more sisterly than mother/daughter, and now he understood why. 

“Pleased to meet you,” he said.

“Yes. I’m glad to finally meet Emma’s pet project,” Ingrid replied, in a soft, lulling voice that seemed to promise a dose of venom behind the initial sweetness.

They didn’t have long to chat before Emma swept him off to introduce him to her other friends, but he felt her eyes lingering on him.

By and large Killian had a good time at the party, but he felt Ingrid’s gaze of disapproval on him the entire time. Though they barely spoke the whole party, he went home that night with the distinct impression that Ingrid would never approve of him as anything more than a friend with Emma.

*~*

“So do you think you and your 7-11 hottie are ever gonna get together?” Donna asked Emma the next time they saw each other.

Emma sputtered for a minute, completely unable to answer. “I—I—well—you know—he’s my renter. It could be—you know—complicated?”

Donna shrugged. “A man like that is probably worth a few complications. If you’re not interested, I might want to take a shot.”

A hard knot formed in Emma’s chest at the thought of Killian doing anything remotely resembling a date with anyone—especially one of her friends. Yes, dating him would be complicated. In the past five months she’d come to think of him and Bay as close friends, and she’d hate to screw that up. But there were moments when the sight of his smile, or the sound of his laugh, or the way his arms looked in short-sleeves, made her heart race and her core tingle. Was she just making excuses out of fear of getting hurt? It was hard to say. But she knew she didn’t like the idea of him with someone else.

Donna held up her hands. “Hey—sorry. I can see you’ve got some kind of thing going on here. I won’t tread on your toes. He’s all yours.”

Emma smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I guess I’m just not sure what I want, yet. But—maybe there’s something there. I don’t know.”

“Figure it out,” Donna said. “You deserve someone good in your life.”

“Thanks.”

When she saw Killian again that evening in the park, a rope of uncertainty twisted inside her, but she tried to act normal as they joked and chatted.

Killian’s eyes narrowed. “You all right, Swan? Something seems a bit off.”

Emma shook her head. She wasn’t ready for this conversation. “I’m just a little tired. I think I might be coming down with a cold.”

His eyes widened with concern. “You shouldn’t be out running, then. Let’s get you home and get you to bed.” He rested his hand on the small of her back, sending a shiver of nervous excitement through her, and started ushering her down the block toward their street.

“I’ll be okay, really,” she protested. The idea of Killian getting her to bed was giving her all kinds of thoughts that she really didn’t want to deal with right now.

“Nonsense. The community depends on you, Officer Swan.” He grinned and winked.

Emma sighed. He wasn’t making this easy.

She managed to send him away at her door when he seemed poised to walk her all the way to her bedroom. She leaned back against the door after closing it behind him and sighed.

Was his friendship too important to put on the line, or was it worth the risk? And how the hell was she supposed to make up her mind?

*~*

Killian stared at the trays of home cooked food, and, once again, felt a little foolish.

Emma had volunteered to work Thanksgiving and the entire Thanksgiving weekend in exchange for a longer holiday at Christmastime. A sensible thing to do.

But Killian’s response to that news had been anything but sensible. He’d got it into his head to cook her a surprise Thanksgiving dinner—no matter that he’d never cooked anything half that complicated before.

He’d just heard her get home from work upstairs. And here it all was. A roast turkey breast. Potatoes and gravy. Stuffing. Rolls. And pie.

And what the hell was he doing? She was his friend, and Bae’s friend. But in spite of a little casual flirting she’d shown no sign of wanting anything more.

But if he went through with this little surprise of his, he might as well write her a note: _“Dear Swan – You do know I love you, don’t you?”_

He grimaced at the thought.

The sound of aluminum foil ripping woke him from his reverie of self-doubt, and he watched Bae slap the foil over the top of the trays. “Shall we?” Bae said.

Killian took a deep breath. Well. The deed was done. There was no turning back now. He nodded and picked up his share of the food to tote it up and around to Emma’s front door.

Her tired face broke into a smile when she opened the door and saw them there. “What’s all this?”

“Your Thanksgiving feast,” said Bae, a little smirk on his face. “Dad’s idea.”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh my God! You guys are so sweet. Come in, come in.”

Though they’d had a bit to eat earlier, Killian and Bae joined in as she dug into the meal with gusto. He loved to watch her eat. He’d been without food at several points in his life, and he knew the look of a person who’d trained themself to eat when they had the chance, out of fear of starving. She relished every bite.

After getting over his initial embarrassment they settled into their usual comfortable rapport. After finishing their meal they settled on her couches to watch the football game she’d recorded and swapped stories of the odd characters they both ran into in their lines of work, while Bae sat texting his friends.

And though she sat a little closer to him than usual, their legs almost touching, he tried not to read anything into it.

When the hour grew late he and Bae did the washing up and took their leave. Emma thanked them again and gave Bae a warm, sisterly hug. Killian’s heart jumped when she turned to him with her arms spread wide. 

This was something new.

Swallowing his nerves he reciprocated her offered embrace. She pulled him closer than he’d expected, and rested her head on his shoulder. He wondered if maybe her sudden burst of affection was simply a result of the wine, but he hoped it was more.

“Thank you, Killian,” she murmured. “You really are a great guy. I hope you know that.”

He breathed deep, his nose filling with the pleasant scent of her work-day sweat mingled with traces of floral shampoo and pumpkin pie. “Why thank you, milady.”

She chuckled, her body vibrating in his arms, and she squeezed a little tighter. God, it felt good to be holding her. “I’m glad I decided to let you rent the apartment.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

She leaned back a bit to meet his eyes, but still so close he could feel the warmth of her breath on his lips. His heart pounded. Could this really be happening?

Then, a moment later, whatever spell they’d been under decided to shatter, and she slid her arms off of him and stepped back.

“Thanks,” she repeated. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, stepping back out into the cold night.

*~*

“I still can’t believe you invited those men over for Christmas Eve dinner,” said Ingrid for what must be the tenth time that day as she ferociously kneaded bread dough on the floured counter.

Emma paused briefly in her potato-peeling to grit her teeth. “Please don’t start this again. I want tonight to be pleasant. It’s my first Christmas dinner in my own house. Could you humor just this once?”

Ingrid grimaced and went back to her kneading.

She’d protested that this was supposed be a family dinner, and had blithely ignored Emma’s counter argument that August wasn’t technically family either, for all that he’d been in their lives almost since the adoption.

Emma had no idea why Ingrid disliked Killian so much. Not that she’d liked any of Emma’s other boyfriends. 

Not that Killian was even her boyfriend, Emma had to remind herself.

Things between them had changed, lately. Not in a bad way, but definitely in a way that made her even more confused than before. They both seemed to be hovering on the edge of something more than just friends, but neither of them seemed willing to take that leap, yet. Maybe they never would. Ugh.

She really didn’t want to think about it tonight. She just wanted to enjoy her Christmas.

“I, for one, am looking forward to getting to know these friends of yours,” piped up August, from where he sat artistically arranging the fruit in his fancy apple tart—the dish had become a tradition ever since he started joining them for Christmas. “They sound like they have some interesting stories to tell.”

Emma smiled. August’s natural journalistic curiosity had been enough for him to figure out that her tenants were more than what they seemed, but she doubted he’d be able to pry anything resembling the truth out of them. She wasn’t worried. “Thank you. At least I know someone here is on my side.”

“Always,” August replied with a grin, before winking at the still-frowning Ingrid.

Emma still hadn’t determined whether or not the two of them were back on at the moment. She’d given up trying to decipher the complexities of her foster mother’s relationship with their oldest friend a few years ago. It didn’t matter to her whether they were sleeping together at the moment or not, just so long as they were still getting along.

August was somewhere in between her age and Ingrid’s, and had been a strange mix of cool older brother and quirky stepfather to Emma ever since he came into their lives.

Their odd little family might be far from conventional, but Emma loved them both, and they loved her. That was more than she’d had for the first fourteen years of her life, so she was grateful for it every day, no matter how bizarre it might look to outsiders.

*~*

Killian took one last bite of the amazing apple tart and then sank back in his chair with a contented sigh. In spite of a few poisonous glares from Ingrid, the dinner was going very well. Ingrid’s boyfriend August was a charming fellow, and they’d all been getting alone quite well. Killian had even managed to convince Bae to stop texting his new girlfriend, Becky, for the night.

Killian hadn’t met Becky, yet, but he already liked her. Bae hadn’t mentioned his old mates once since he started going out with her. A job and a girlfriend had been just what the lad needed to move on with his life.

“This was a wonderful feast,” Killian said. “Thank you all very much.” He tried to catch Ingrid’s eye in particular, and finally won an almost-smile out of her with his thanks.

After dinner they shifted to the family room for a board game and more wine. By the time the game ended they were all getting a little tipsy. Killian grinned at the way Emma giggled and made naughty jokes when she was a bit drunk. He’d only seen her like this two other times, and he couldn’t get enough.

Ingrid and Emma went to do the dishes while Bae went to the bathroom, and Killian was left alone with August to clean up the game.

“Hell of a snowstorm out there,” said August casually.

“Aye. Took me a few years to get used to these winters when Bae and I first came to Boston, but I think we’ve adapted by now,” replied Killian.

August nodded and picked up a few more cards, stacking them neatly in a pile before adding, “Ingrid loves the snow. Reminds her of home—back in Arendelle.”

Killian froze, a brick of ice dropping in his gut. The man couldn’t have said what he just said—could he? Killian had yet to come across a book or fairytale that mentioned Arendelle in this realm. Perhaps he misheard.

Playing it cool and casual, he nodded. “Good for her. I may be used to the snow, but I’m not sure I’ll ever love it. But the world takes all types, eh?”

August studied him with narrowed eyes, as if trying to read his mind. “Yes. It does.”

August made no other such comments for the remainder of the evening, but that one offhand remark was enough to set Killian on edge. He tried to put on a happy face for the gift exchange—Emma seemed delighted with the book and gloves he and Bae got her, and Killian was certainly pleased with the new soccer ball she got him. But the ice in his gut never quite thawed.

As soon as he got home for the night, he turned on his computer and typed “Arendelle” into a search engine. Nothing resembling the land he’d visited many a time on the Jolly Roger turned up.

He had to have misheard August. But a nagging instinct told him he hadn’t. There was more going on here than met the eye.

And things with Emma suddenly felt even more complex.

*~*

“You should go out with me and Becky, tonight,” Bae nagged as Killian dressed for work on New Year ’s Eve. 

“There’s no one to fill in my shift. And I’d be a terrible third wheel,” replied Killian.

Bae sighed. “You could ask Emma.”

Killian frowned. Over the past week he’d discovered the downside to Bae’s new relationship—he’d started nagging Killian about his own love life.

“She’s working, too.”

Bae rolled his eyes. “Only because you gave her no reason _not_ to work. Seriously, Dad. This thing with her is never going to go anywhere if you don’t step it up and ask her out.”

Killian shook his head. “You know things are complicated.”

“Not as complicated as you act like.”

Killian hadn’t told Bae about the incident with August, yet. No need to worry the lad over something that was probably a misunderstanding. But it still made him hesitant to act until he knew for sure. What was he really getting mixed up in here?

But did it really matter? If somehow Emma’s foster mother and her boyfriend turned out to be from a magical realm, would it change the way he felt about Emma.

No. Nothing would.

Bae stood up and ambled over to him. “Look, Dad, I hate to be so blunt, but you need to stop living in the past. I never expected you to stay loyal to my mom forever. And I’m not a kid anymore. You don’t need to put all your focus on me. It’s time to think about yourself once in awhile. It’s okay to let yourself be happy.”

Killian glared at him. As much as he enjoyed seeing Bae so confident and happy, he could do without the lecture. “So I’m to learn from your wisdom and experience now, am I?”

Bae smiled and chuckled. “Exactly.”

Killian shook his head and turned back to the mirror to finish combing his hair. “So you think Emma is the key to my happiness, eh?”

Bae shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But you’ll never know if you don’t try.”

On that point, at least, the lad was absolutely right.

*~*

Emma was just getting off her shift when her cell rang. She saw Killian’s name pop up, and knew this was the call she’d been waiting for. “Well?” she asked, in place of her usual greeting.

“We got the scores,” Killian said, his voice light and happy. Emma began to smile. “We both passed with high marks. You’re now talking to a man who’s earned his GED.”

“Yay!” Emma bounced a little in excitement. She knew it didn’t mean much for Killian’s current career, but it could help lead to better things down the road for him and Bae both. She was delighted for them. “Congratulations! This calls for a celebration. I’ll pick up some booze on the way home and we can have a toast.”

“Ah,” replied Killian, “it may just be the two of us. Bae seems intent on taking Becky out on the town tonight.”

“That’s…” Emma hesitated. They’d been dancing around this thing between for long enough. Maybe tonight was the opportunity they’d both been waiting for. “That’s fine. We can celebrate just the two of us.”

He hesitated a second before answering. “Perfect. I’ll, uh, get some Chinese takeout, you bring the booze. It’ll be great.”

“Yeah. It will.”

Butterflies danced in Emma’s stomach as soon as she hung up. Well. Time to take a leap.

*~*

Killian knew he was in for it when Emma showed up wearing a slightly see-through black top over jeans that hugged every delicious curve and waved a bottle of good rum at him with a grin on her face. He swallowed hard.

He’d still found no resolution to the puzzle August had put in his mind. But in the end it didn’t matter—did it?

Emma smiled at him and licked her lips while she opened the bottle. His heart started to race.

For centuries he’d believed he’d never be able to move on from Milah—that he’d never be able to love again.

But here was proof to the contrary standing right in front of him. He knew he was on the verge of giving her his whole heart if she made a sign that she was ready to take it.

Perhaps Bae was right. Perhaps it was time to let himself be happy.

*~*

After the Chinese food and more than a few toasts with Killian’s favorite rum Emma found herself sitting snuggled up against him on his sofa while they joked about a ridiculous commercial they’d just seen on television when she suddenly felt his arm wrap around her shoulders.

She tipped her face up close to his and held his gaze, searching his eyes. There was want there. She could see it. She could feel it.

With the television still playing in the background and both of them more than a little drunk, it was hardly the most romantic of moments. But it was him, and it was her, and they’d already been playing this game too long.

She leaned a little closer, and kissed him.

Heat surge through her as his lips parted against hers—eagerly—hungrily. 

He pulled her closer—God his arms were strong—and she threaded her fingers through his thick hair and caressed his cheek with her thumb. This felt even better than she’d imagined.

She felt her breath shaking in her throat when they tilted apart.

His hand cradled her face and his other arm held her close even as he whispered, “Is this a mistake?”

“No,” she breathed, and kissed him again.

*~*

The past month had passed in a whirlwind for Emma, as she learned what it was to date Killian Jones. He’d proved to have a ridiculously romantic side that including fancy dinners, surprise flowers, and even snippets of love poetry.

There had been awkward moments, too, as there were in any new relationship. But Emma savored those just as much. Every day they got to know each other better, and learned new things about each other. It was an adventure of the very best kind.

She’d never pictured herself with a convenience store manager—it was hardly the stuff of fairytales. But she wasn’t exactly a fairytale princess, either. Besides, reality was better. After just a month she’d begun to think that Killian was someone she could build a life with. Maybe she’d found her own kind of happily ever after.

Now that she knew this was the real thing, the time had come to break the news to Ingrid. 

That week at their regular Sunday lunch she fidgeted with nerves all through the meal until Ingrid finally burst out, “Clearly you have something on your mind, Emma. Why don’t you just tell me what it is and get it over with.”

Emma took a deep breath. “Well—you see—” Better keep it fast, liking pulling off a Band-Aid. “Killian and I have started dating. And it’s going really well, and I’m really happy. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

Ingrid squeezed her lips together and slowly, deliberately, set her fork neatly beside her plate. “Oh.”

Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head. “See—this is exactly why I was nervous to tell you. Why do you hate him so much? Why?”

Ingrid met her eyes with a firm expression. “I don’t hate him. I just don’t trust him. Those are two different things.”

“Well, I trust him. And it’s my life. So you’ll just have to get used to it.” Emma folded her arms across her chest. Damn it—why did Ingrid have to ruin this?

Ingrid shook her head. “I just want what’s best for you. I want you to be happy. That’s all.”

“I am happy,” Emma said. She couldn’t take this. “Look—I’m going. Just—try to get used the idea, because he’s not going anywhere.” She stood up and left the table at the restaurant without looking back. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

*~*

Fresh snow was falling outside Killian’s store when Ingrid barged into his store, still wearing her work scrubs that she wore to her job as a nurse’s aide at the hospital under her coat, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail.

She glared at him with a hard expression. Emma had warned him that Ingrid hadn’t taken the news of their relationship well, but this visit still took him by surprise.

“Hello, Ingrid. This is a sur—“

“We need to talk,” she barked. “In private.”

Killian squeezed his lips together and looked around the store. She was the only customer at the moment. Not many people were out in this weather. He nodded and turned to the other employee working that day. “Lamar—watch the till for a bit. I’m going on break.”

The young man nodded in assent, and Killian grabbed his coat from the back room before following Ingrid outside. They walked around to the back of the building. Ingrid paced, wearing a track in the fresh snow, for a minute before meeting his eyes. “August says you’re one of us. Is he right?”

Killian’s heart contracted in his chest. He’d set his fears about August aside, but now they came flooding back. His mouth hung open.

Ingrid took another step toward him. “Arendelle. Misthaven. Agrabah. You’ve heard of them, haven’t you?”

His hand began to shake, and not from the cold. Finally he nodded. “Aye. My ship used to dock at all three lands.”

He saw tears rise in Ingrid’s eyes. She shook her head and stepped over to the building to lean back against the cinderblock wall. “She’s like a magnet. She draws us all in, whether we want it or not. And she still doesn’t know it. She has no idea.”

Killian narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Ingrid ignored his question, instead asking one of her own. “August says you’re Captain Hook, and Bay is one of the Lost Boys. Is he right?”

Killian sighed. There was no more doubt they were on the same page. No more question. But what did it all mean? “Aye—more or less. Not what you expected?”

She shook head. “I should know better, by now. None of us fit the picture the stories of this world spin around us.”

“Who are you—and August?” Killian asked.

A weak smile spread on her face. “August is Pinocchio. And I’m the Snow Queen. At least I don’t have a Disney image to contend with, yet.” She sighed.

Killian’s head was spinning. How many more like him were out there, trying to live normal lives? And Emma…

“Why did you say she’s like a magnet? What do you mean? Are you talking about Emma?”

She nodded, looking as mysterious as her alter ego implied with snowflakes dotting her hair and eyelashes. “Yes. None of us brought our magic with us, except for her. She doesn’t know how to use it, of course, but it still radiates around her like a whirlpool, pulling us all in. There were a few others that I managed to turn away before she ever met them. But I missed you.” She laughed a hollow laugh. “You blended in too well. I wasn’t even sure, until after August talked to you.”

Killian shook his head and leaned against the wall beside her as he tried to wrap his mind around what Ingrid was telling him. “Do you mean to say that Emma is one of us?”

Ingrid nodded slowly, and Killian’s heart all but stopped in his chest.

“Yes. But she doesn’t know it. She was born a princess in Misthaven, but was sent here through a magic cabinet minutes after her birth, in order to escape a curse woven by the Dark One and cast by an evil queen. August came with her, to protect her, but he was just a boy of eight. How could he look after an infant in a world like this one? There was no way.”

Each word she spoke hit him like the blow of a blacksmith’s hammer. “The Dark One. Rumplestiltskin?” he whispered.

“The same. You know him?” Ingrid looked up at him curiously.

Killian swallowed hard. God—what would he tell Bae? Had he led the boy back to his doom without knowing it? “We’ve had our run-ins. None of them pleasant.”

“I know the feeling.” Ingrid looked away, and stared down at her feet. “The Dark One foretold that on her twenty-eight birthday Emma would somehow find her parents and break the curse placed over her kingdom. Ever since I learned of that prophecy I’ve lived in terror of her birthdays, knowing that each one of them took us closer to her being pulled back into that world.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Killian could hardly breathe. Less than a year—they had less than a year left.

“When I first came here,” said Ingrid, “when I first found her—I meant to take her back to that world with me. I tried to tell her the truth, but it terrified her. I almost lost her before the adoption was even complete. I had to take it all back. I promised to go to therapy and get medication—I called it a mental illness. The medication was just sugar pills, but the therapy was real. And it helped me realize that I’d been all wrong. I didn’t need to take her back to be happy. The life we had here was enough. It was all I really needed.”

Ingrid smiled, but tears continued to well in her eyes. “You see why you being together frightens me? I want her to be happy, but I also want her to escape that fate. August thinks she needs to find her parents and fulfill her destiny. But I just want her to stay here and be happy.”

“Would breaking the curse put her back in the path of the Dark One—and this evil queen you speak of?” Killian asked, already suspecting—and dreading—the answer.

Ingrid nodded. “Yes. It would.”

Killian closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cold wall. All his old enemies—everything he’d tried so hard to save Bae from—the new happiness he’d only just found—he could feel it all crumbling to dust around him.

“I love her,” he admitted for the first time out loud.

“So do I.” Ingrid laughed. A bitter, mirthless sound. “Fate’s a tricky bitch, isn’t she? Just when you think you’ve got her beat, she comes back to bite you.”

“Aye. That she does.” Killian opened his eyes and stared up at the falling snow. “So what do we do, now?”

Ingrid looked up at the frozen sky along with him. “I have no idea.”

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally updating – yay! And as per my usual, I had too much material to wrap it up in the initially projected number of chapters. So now this fic will officially have 3 chapters, with the 3rd and final still in the works. Enjoy!

Emma had been in several long-term relationships in her past (though for her, four months counted as long), but though she was already in her late twenties, she couldn’t say she’d ever really been in love.

At times she’d wondered if maybe there was something wrong with her—a deficiency in her heart brought on by those long, hard years of her early childhood. Maybe she didn’t have the capacity for love that other people did. Maybe hard experience had made her too picky—too closed off. Before Killian she hadn’t made it past a second date in over two years—mostly by her own choice.

Before Killian she’d begun to resign herself to permanent singlehood. She’d begun to accept that her heart would never really let her have something more.

Once, when she’d confessed as much to August after having a few too many drinks, he’d gently told her that she was more capable of great love than anyone he knew, and that she simply hadn’t met the right person yet. At the time she rolled her eyes and groaned. He was just trying to make her feel better.

Now—since Killian—she’d begun to think August was right.

Emma smiled when she opened the door for Killian that evening. “Thanks for shoveling the snow.” She brushed his lips with a light kiss and let him in.

He paused inside to take off his coat and boots. “It was no trouble. It’s the best way to get in some cardio when soccer isn’t an option.” Over the past few weeks they’d fallen into a new pattern. After her daily workout he’d join her for dinner and some down time before bed—and more often than not he’d stay the night. She was starting to think it was time to get him his own key.

During dinner Killian talked less than usual and avoided her gaze. She asked him several times if something was wrong, but he brushed it off. “Just a long day at work,” he said with a shake of his head.

She let go of her concerns when Killian relaxed as the evening wore on. And later, when he reached for her with hunger in his eyes, she was eager to reciprocate.

Sex with Killian was good from the start. He was an attentive and thorough lover, and quick to learn her preferences. However, tonight was different. There was a new intensity in the way he touched her—the way he held her. He seemed determined to put her pleasure above all else, as if there was no other purpose in his life than to worship her body. Only after he’d brought her to climax twice could she coax him into letting her return the favor, but even then he managed to bring her to her height one more time before finding his own release.

After, Emma lay exhausted and utterly spent in the best possible way. If this wasn’t love, she didn’t know what was. Once the post-sex haze finally began to clear from her mind she rolled onto her side to look at him, a grin on her face. “Wow, babe. That was amaz—Killian?” She shifted her sentence mid-thought. Even now he still looked troubled and distant. How could he be upset after what they’d just shared?

The thought that she’d done something wrong flitted through her mind, but she immediately pushed it away.

“Okay,” she said, steeling her nerves. “Now I know something is wrong. And don’t give me that _hard day at work_ line again. What’s going on?”

Killian sighed and rubbed his face.

“Come on. Please. Talk to me, Killian.” She clenched the fingers of one hand in the blankets. At times it felt like they fit together like pieces of a puzzle, but then moments like this happened, and made her wonder how well she really knew him. Could they really love each other while he kept these walls up?

“Just…” he started softly. “Something happened today that made me think about my past. There’s so much…” He sighed. “There’s so much you don’t know about me. Most of it bad. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder when you’ll discover who I really am and realize you’ve got no business being with a man like me.”

So that’s what was bothering him—why he’d been so determined to please her. And maybe his walls weren’t as high as she feared.

Emma squeezed her lips together and sat up. “I know you have a bad past. I’ve known that since the day we first met. And don’t try talking about how it’s worse than I’ve guessed. It had to be pretty damn bad to get Milah killed.” The line of his jaw tensed, and he looked up at her with anxious eyes.

Maybe as a cop she should be more concerned about his criminal history, but some instinct deep in her gut told her to trust him—to rely on him. Besides, she felt confident that whatever crimes he’d committed long ago happened far out of her jurisdiction.

She reached out a hand and rested it on his chest, over his heart. “If you ever feel like you need to tell me something, or confess something, I’ll listen. But I don’t care about your past. I care about who you are now. I’m choosing to see the best in you.”

At last a strained smile curved on his face, and some of the worry in his eyes receded. “I always see the best in you, Swan.”

Emma never took praise well, and Killian regularly pushed her buttons to play on this trait. She rolled her eyes. “Even when I’m snoring?”

His smile grew into a grin. “Aye. It’s music to my ears, love.”

She laughed with him and let him pull her down for another kiss. 

Later in the night, after Killian was asleep, she lay awake, her thoughts tumbling in her head. She trusted him—she believed in him. And she believed more than ever that she was in love with him. 

But now she wondered if there was a chance that somehow his bad deeds from the past could come back to haunt him. That someday a warrant for his arrest would cross her desk, or a shady character from his past would turn up in town.

What would she do then?

She fought her fears for much of the night before finally resolving to let it go. If that time ever came, she’d cross that bridge. Until then, there was no use worrying.

Sleep came at last, but the dawn followed far too soon after.

*~*

“She _wil_ l find her parents on her twenty-eighth birthday, and she _will_ break the curse, one way or another. It’s our choice whether we help her or hinder her. But those facts are unavoidable. It’s her fate,” August insisted over his tightly-gripped mug of rapidly cooling coffee. Ingrid sat across the room from him, her arms folded across her chest and a tight frown on her face.

Killian hated meeting in secret like this. He hated hiding things from Emma. But what choice did he have?

His frown echoed Ingrid’s. “I don’t believe in fate.”

August laughed. “You expect me to believe that? You, who adopted the particular boy you did, and then fell in love with the woman at the center of a curse designed by that boy’s father, don’t believe in fate? How else do you explain it?”

Killian grimaced. He had no answer, and he hated that he didn’t. His feelings for Bae and Emma were more than fate. His life was his own, damn it. But the coincidences that had brought him here seemed stacked to provide evidence to the contrary.

“What do you mean?” Ingrid said. “Who’s Bay’s father?”

August leaned back, a smug smile on his face. “Why don’t you tell her, Killian?”

Killian glared at the man, but did as he requested. “His name’s not really Baylor. It’s Baelfire.”

Ingrid’s face grew increasingly bleak as Killian explained exactly who Bae really was.

Ingrid shook her head, tears standing in her eyes. “August is right. This is too much to be mere coincidence. The Dark One’s magic reached into this realm and wove the threads of our lives together to make sure Emma would bring him back to his son. I’m going to lose her. After everything I’ve done—all the changes I’ve made—I’m still going to lose her, just like I lost my sisters.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks and August crossed the room to crouch in front of her and take her hands. “No, you won’t.”

Ingrid sniffed. “Yes, I will. Isn’t that whole point of this curse? To bring her back to her real parents?”

“She’s a grown woman,” August insisted, holding Ingrid’s gaze. “She can choose for herself who she wants to keep in her life, and you will always be a part of it. I know it.”

Killian looked away, feeling as if he was intruding on a private moment. If Ingrid—Emma’s family—was worried about losing her to another realm, Killian had more than ample reason to fear that he’d lose her, as well. But he couldn’t deny the strength of August’s argument. They all seemed to be barreling toward the final day of this curse with a terrify speed that none of them could hope to stop.

It was the first week of March. They had eight more months. Just eight months to either guide Emma toward her fate, or to try to save her from it.

It would pass too quickly. Time in this realm always did.

“So what do we do now?” Ingrid asked a few minutes later, after she calmed down.

Killian sighed. “Before anything else, I have to tell Bae. I promised I’d never lie to him. He deserves to know what’s coming.”

Ingrid nodded silently, and then said, “And after that do we just sit back and let fate take its course?”

“No—of course not!” August objected, before Killian had a chance.

“We take fate into our own hands,” Killian added, more than a little surprised that he and August seemed to be in agreement. “Wherever this portal to her parents’ realm exists, we have to find it.”

August rose from his place at Ingrid’s side and smiled down at Killian with another of his smug expressions. “Done.”

Killian felt stunned. “You know where it is?”

August nodded. “And it’s not a portal. It’s a place right here in this world. Her parents and everyone in their whole kingdom were picked up by the curse and dropped down into a pocket of the Maine woods, along the coast—not far from where Emma and I first appeared in this land as children. That’s how I found it.”

Killian listened intently as August explained his explorations of Maine—how he’d used his GPS to locate the exact spot on a rarely-used road where his motorcycle magically skipped about twenty-five miles further down the coast in the blink of an eye.

“It’s so seamless that no one would notice it unless they were looking for it,” said August. “But I remember what magic feels like, and this is it.”

“But what’s going on inside of this magical bubble of yours?” Killian asked.

“There’s no way of knowing. Not until the time has come for Emma to break the curse. Only then will we be able to cross into the bubble. We just need to get her there on her birthday.”

“We get her there, and the curse will break?” Killian had a hard time believing it would be that easy.

August shook his head. “There might be more to it than that. I have no idea. We just have to trust that once she’s there, fate will take over and guide the way.”

“That’s a hell of a leap of faith you’re asking us to take.” Killian clenched his jaw.

“And you’re asking us to risk our relationships with Emma—to risk losing her trust—all over the whims of fate,” added Ingrid.

It sounded like an argument she and August had been having for a long time. No wonder their relationship was so rocky.

Though they talked a while longer, the meeting resulted in no definite plans beyond telling Bae the truth. And that part was up to Killian.

*~*

Emma kicked off her shoes and slumped onto the nearest sofa as soon as she came home from work. It had been a hell of a day.

After a few minutes of quiet unwinding she pulled out her phone and texted Killian. “I’m home. Come up please.”

Less than two minutes later she smiled at the sound of the door opening and craned her head to see him. God, it was good to have someone to turn to on days like this. He slid onto the sofa beside her and wrapped an arm over her shoulders.

“Hey, love. Rough day?”

“The worst.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. “Had to deal with a domestic disturbance today. There were kids. They’d been neglected and abused. Had to call in Child Protective Services.”

“I’m so sorry,” Killian said softly. He hugged her closer and kissed her forehead. He knew these were exactly the sort of situations that hit a raw nerve with her. Another group of kids mistreated and shuffled off into the same system that had treated her so poorly. And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to make it better. Sometimes parents just sucked, and the system was the lesser of two evils. She hated it. Every moment of it.

“You look like you could use some comfort food and a movie to take your mind off your day,” said Killian. “Go ahead and put your feet up—I’ll get dinner ready.”

She smiled with contentment and settled back into her cushions as Killian popped in her “Mean Girls” DVD—a movie guaranteed to make her laugh—and started puttering around the kitchen. Soon enough he called her over the table and presented his offerings of creamy tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.

Perfect. She couldn’t have picked anything better. She settled into her chair with a happy sigh. “This is exactly what I needed tonight. I love you.”

She froze with her hand halfway to her sandwich as she realized what she’d just said. Shit. This wasn’t how she would have planned this sort of confession—it had just slipped out.

Her heart in her throat, she raised her eyes to meet Killian’s gaze. The look of pure adoration that she saw on his face too her breath away.

He sat on the chair next to hers, scooted it close, and took both of her hands in his, a brilliant smile on his face all the while. She held her breath and waited for the words that she knew had to be coming.

He squeezed her hands and leaned a little closer. His voice was soft when he spoke. “I… I should’ve guessed that food would be the key to winning your heart.”

The spell broke and Emma laughed—a rich, happy sounded that welled in her stomach and filled her whole chest as it escaped.

Killian laughed with her, and then took her face in his hand and kissed her—firm but slow.

When their lips parted he kept his hand on her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I do love you, Emma. How could I help but fall in love with you?”

All the hardships of the day seemed to life from her shoulders and her heart felt like it would soar right out of her chest. She was at a loss for words. She just stared at his face, grinning like an idiot, until they both started to laugh, again.

“Well—that happened,” she said, trying to ease back into some semblance of normality. But normal had changed. Normal would never be the same again, because Killian loved her and she loved him and being able to say it out loud made it so much more real.

“Yes, it did,” he replied, still smiling. “But now your sandwich is getting cold. Shall we eat?”

“Yes. We shall,” she answered, nodding.

And so they did. It was the best grilled cheese ever.

Emma was slightly disappointed when Killian told her he couldn’t stay the night. Apparently he had to have some sort of father-son discussion with Bae.

“Is he in trouble again?” Emma asked.

Killian shook his head. “Not at all. He’s just hard to get a hold of these days, but Becky’s working this evening so I need to take the chance when I can get it.”

“Okay. I understand.” She’d known this was a package deal from the start—as long as Killian was in her life, Bae would be, too, and she would never want to get in the way of that.

They shared a kiss goodnight at her door. “Love you,” she said, finding it easier with practice.

“Love you, too,” he replied, his eyes shining.

Emma couldn’t wipe the smile from her face as she got ready for bed. She felt as if her life was entering a new phase—one where Ingrid and August wouldn’t be her only family anymore.

*~*

“No. No!” Bae paced back and forth in the kitchen, tugged his hair with his fingers. “This has to be some sort of sick joke—right?”

Killian clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. He’d managed to stop thinking about this confrontation during his dinner with Emma, but he’d promised himself he’d not wait any longer. Facing this after the joy of what he’d shared with Emma seemed the worst of contrasts. “It’s no joke. I’d never joke about this—you know that.”

Bae stopped his pacing and leaned against the counter. He stared down at his feet. “I thought we’d escaped him. I thought we were free.”

“So did I.” Killian shook his head. That damned crocodile had done all this to find Bae—he felt certain of it. And he was sure Bae would soon realize the same. “Come sit down. Let me tell you everything.”

Bae followed him to their family room looking dazed. Killian could sympathize.

Once Killian had told him everything he knew, Bae looked at him with a downcast face and asked the very same question Killian had asked of Ingrid just one week earlier. “What do we do now?”

Killian wished he had a better answer. “I don’t know. Not yet. But we’ll sort it out, I promise. And I swear on my heart on soul—you’ll not have to face this alone. Whatever we do, we’ll do together.”

“Will we really?” Bae asked, pain shining in his eyes. “The whole time you were telling me about this I could hear it in your voice—the way you were defending Emma. The way you were trying to explain how none of this is her fault, and staying with her won’t be a mistake. How we need to help her face her fate.” His voice was rough with emotion. “So how the hell are we supposed to face this together when you’ve already picked _her_ side?”

Killian frowned and shook his head. “It’s not like that, Bae.”

“Isn’t it?” Bae snapped.

Killian tried to reach out to him, but Bae pulled away and strode to the window to stare out at the melting snow. Bae had to know he was Killian’s first priority. He _had_ to. 

“This isn’t about picking sides,” Killian said. “It’s about working together to face the future as a team. We’ll find a way to deal with this as a team. You and me and Ingrid and August. We’ll all work through this together, and when the time is right we’ll find a way to tell Emma the truth. But keeping you safe is at the top of my mind through all of this. It always will be. We’re family, Bae. That comes first.”

Bae nodded, but didn’t meet his eyes. “Okay. Okay. I just… I need some time. To process.”

Killian understood. He headed to his room to give Bae the space he needed. Once the lad had sorted through it all, they’d sit down and start working on a plan. A plan that would keep Bae safe, but would still include Emma. Bae was right in one respect—Killian might not be taking Emma’s side, but she was his life now, every bit as much as Bae. He only hoped his son wouldn’t hold it against him.

Killian only worried a little when he woke up to find Bae already gone for the day. But when Bae didn’t answer any calls or texts that day, and when the apartment showed no signs of Bae coming home at all that day when Killian got home from work, he knew there was trouble.

He texted Emma to excuse himself from their usual dinner and set out in his car. Becky was still at work at the coffee shop where she was a barista, and she looked worried when Killian asked if she’d heard from Bae. She hadn’t been able to reach him all day.

Killian drove back to their old neighborhood and tried all of Bae’s old haunts, while still calling and texting Bae several times an hour. There was no sign of him.

When, long after midnight, Killian finally returned home to a still-empty apartment, he knew with a certainty. Bae was gone.

*~*

Killian’s failure to respond to any of her texts had left Emma on edge all day—and when she’d stopped by his store to discover that he’d taken a sick day, she worried even more.

This wasn’t him. He never acted like this.

Had her confession spooked him? But he said he loved her, too. He’d seemed so happy.

She did her best to focus on her work, but her insides were in a state of turmoil. Somehow, she’d screwed things up.

After work she skipped her usual run—she needed to deal with this emotional crap that had taken over her brain more than she needed the exercise. 

Killian’s car was parked in its usual spot. She jogged inside and changed quickly, and then held her breath all the way down to Killian’s door. There was a heavy brick in her gut as she waited for someone to answer her knock.

The door swung open, and Killian stared at her, looking haggard and weary. His voice was rough when he spoke. “He’s gone. Bay is gone.”

Emma’s eyes went wide.”What? What do you mean, gone?”

Killian shook his head and leaned heavily against the doorframe. “He ran off in the middle of the night, two nights ago. After I talked to him.”

“Oh my God.” All thoughts of herself drained away, except for a slight twinge of guilt that she’d been too self-obsessed to worry about other possible causes for Killian’s unusual behavior. She stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around him. He leaned against her, returning her embrace. She could feel the tension in his body, and see the exhaustion in his every move.

“I’ve looked everywhere,” he murmured. “Sent him a million messages. Talked to his boss—to Becky. No one knows where he is, and it’s all my fault. I fucked up, Emma. I fucked up and now he’s gone.”

Her cop brain kicked in. Facts. She needed facts. But she couldn’t let the cop take over completely. Killian needed her—girlfriend her—right now. She steered him toward the couch and made him sit down, then sat beside him and wrapped her arm around his. She stroked his hand and urged him to tell her what had happened.

“I needed to tell him. Promised I’d never lie to him. But it spooked him. I didn’t say the right thing. I fucked up.” Killian groaned. Clearly he hadn’t slept in quite awhile.

“What did you need to tell him, honey? What was it?”

Killian sighed, a strained look in his eyes. “His father. His birth father. I got wind the man might be living in Maine. Less than five hours away. I had to tell Bay. Knew he’d want to know. But I didn’t do it right. Bay seemed to think that if we’d found out about his father, then he could find out about _us_ , too.” Killian swallowed hard and shook his head. “I tried to convince him that there was nothing to worry about. No reason to run. But he accused me of saying that just because…” Killian looked away from her. “Because I was taking your side instead of his. Because I didn’t want to leave you.”

Emma’s heart skipped a beat. There was so much to process so quickly. But… part of the problem had been her place in Killian’s life? Her guilt rose even higher. Damn it. Just when things had been so good.

But she couldn’t think about herself right now. She needed to worry about Bay and Killian first.

“Why is he so afraid of his birth father?” she asked, suspecting the answer to that question would unlock a whole host of mysteries.

“He was the one who killed Bay’s mum,” said Killian, his voice rough. “After she left him and found happiness with me, he found her and he killed her. And did it in a place and in a way where we’ll never be able to bring him to justice. He walks free. And he’s angry at Bay for leaving him, too. That’s why Bay’s afraid.”

Emma’s mouth hung open, at a loss for words. Killian was right—there was so much she still didn’t know about him. But this horror in his past—she could help. She had to help.

“I tried to convince Bay that we’re in a safe place now. That he could never get to us, even if he knew where we were. But he wouldn’t listen. I thought I’d give him space to cool down and see reason, but instead he took off.” Kllian grimaced. “I should have stayed with him. I should have stayed up all night, if I had to. I’d’ve found a way to convince him that we’re safe…”

“Are you?” Emma asked, unable to hide the quaver in her voice.

“Aye, we are,” he insisted. “The murder happened in another time and place—across the ocean and outside the realm of the law. But here he wouldn’t dare. He’d be vulnerable. We’re safe. But Bay didn’t believe me.”

“Because of your relationship with me,” said Emma, the brick settling back in the pit of her stomach.

Killian squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw before answering. “It’s not your fault, love. I didn’t explain things to him properly. I…”

“It’s not your fault, either,” replied Emma. She squeezed his hand. “He’s nineteen. Nineteen-year old kids do crazy things when their emotions are worked up. When I was nineteen I nearly ran away with a twenty-four year old BMX racer who lived in a van.”

That earned a snort of half-laughter from Killian.

Emma continued. “But I eventually came to my senses and got over it. Do you have any reason to believe he’s in immediate danger?”

Killian shook his head. “No. He has some money. Some clothes. He’ll be fine for a few days. Maybe even a few weeks.”

Emma nodded. “Okay. I’ll help you look for him. But chances are, in a few days he’ll come to his senses and come home on his own. And we’ll make sure he knows that we would never let his sadistic bastard of a father hurt him. No one will get through the two of us. Got it?”

Killian nodded, a weak smile on his face. “You are a treasure, Swan. I’ve been frantic for two days, and already I feel better. I did a fair number of foolish things when I was that age, as well. And this isn’t the first time Bay’s run off. But he came back before. I hope you’re right. I hope he just needs a few days to think.”

Emma smiled back. Killian needed her to be his strength right now, and she intended to do everything in her power to make that happen. “He’ll be back. And if he doesn’t come on his own, I can find him. We’ll see him soon. I promise.”

She pulled Killian into another close embrace. She didn’t know what Bay might think of her when they got him back, and she didn’t care. They’d find a way to make this family whole again.

*~*

Over the next two days, with Emma’s help, Killian managed to pull himself together enough to go back to work and carry on with his life. Bae would come back soon. Surely he would.

Then, on the evening of the second day, Becky’s mother and stepfather turned up at his apartment, hurling accusations that his son had “stolen” their daughter from them. Apparently Becky had disappeared, leaving only a note that declared she was in love with Baylor was going away to make a new life with him. Eventually he convinced Becky’s parents that he had no idea where the young couple had gone, but they still went away angry.

A short while later, in Emma’s apartment, he slumped over, his head in his hands after telling her the latest news.

“I’m beginning to think he’s not coming back,” Killian admitted. This was all August’s fault. The man had taken him in with his plans for “taking fate into their own hands.” None of this would be happening if it weren’t for him.

Emma rubbed his back. “We’ll find him. I have a few favors I can pull. And August taught me a few things about less-than-legal methods of tracking down information over the years. I promise—we’ll find him.”

He rested his head on Emma’s shoulder and let her stroke his hair. Let her comfort him. His heart swelled to have someone who cared—someone who loved him. And gods, he loved her. Loved her with his whole soul. But he loved Bae, too.

He couldn’t give up on the boy. Never.

He’d have to find a way to make things right—even if it meant staring Fate in the eyes and telling her to piss off.

Later that night, in privacy, he dialed August’s cell. As soon as the man answered, Killian snarled into the phone. “To hell with you and your plans. To hell with curses and Fate. As soon as I told Bae about it he ran off. Haven’t heard from him since.”

“Wait—Killian—” August tried to interrupt him.

But Killian would have no part of it. “No. I’m through with you, and I’m through with your plans. Emma and I are finding Bae and then we’ll find our own happiness. You stay away from us—especially from Emma—do you hear? Don’t go filling her head with this shite, or I swear to every god in every realm I’ll throttle you to within an inch of your life. Leave her be. Leave us all be.”

Killian hung up before August could voice any protest, and then shut off his phone.

That was the end of it.

The past was the past, and he was going to make sure it stayed that way, no matter what curse the Dark One may have crafted.

*~*

Two weeks after Becky’s departure, Killian got a postcard from Bae. Just a short message scrawled in messy handwriting. “We’re safe. I love her, and we’re going to find our own way, now. I’m sorry. –B”

Emma frowned at the scanty message—and at the desperate look of hope in Killian’s eyes when he showed it to her. Kids could be so impossibly blind and cruel without even realizing it. It still amazed her what a huge difference the first five years of her twenties had made in her maturity level, and she had no doubt it would do the same for Bae. But in the meantime he was busy breaking Killian’s heart, and watching it happen was breaking her heart for him.

“Well, the postmark is from a town in Arizona. Marked four days ago. Chances are they were just passing through, but this at least gives us something to go on.” Emma studied the card for other clues, but none were evident. The fact that neither of the 19 year old lovers had been using their cells or credit cards had made tracking them nearly impossible. Bae seemed bound and determined not to be found. At least now they knew they weren’t dead on the side of a road somewhere.

“So this will help us find them?” Killian asked, his eyes bright and eager.

Emma clenched her teeth. This was still the slimmest of leads. But she couldn’t squash his hope. She nodded. “It’s a good starting place. Finally.”

“Thank God,” sighed Killian.

Emma wrapped her arms around him and held him close. “We’ll find him. It might take some time, but we’ll find him.”

Killian buried his face in her hair and sighed. “I love you, Swan.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered back, silently grateful that she could be here for him during this mess.

*~*

A few days after the postcard, Killian was surprised to when Ingrid visited his shop again.

She offered him a soft smile. “I just dropped by to tell you how sorry I am about your son. I know how stubborn kids that age can be.”

Killian couldn’t help but smile as he imagined Emma as a teen. “Yes—I imagine you do.”

She took a deep breath. “I don’t agree with August on this. He wants to keep forcing the issue, but I think you have every right to live your life for yourself, without worrying about curses or fate. That’s what I’ve always wanted. So—I just wanted to say I’m on your side.”

Killian’s eyebrows rose. “Really? And what of August?”

Ingrid looked away and shook her head. “He left town for a while. I think we both need a little space right now.”

Killian’s throat felt tight. So Ingrid would sacrifice her relationship with her lover over this? He’d never thought she’d be an ally, but right now she probably understood him better than anyone else in this realm. “Thank you, Ingrid. I’m grateful for your support. Truly.”

She smiled again, though her eyes still carried a hint of sorrow. “You’re welcome. And you and Emma are both invited to dinner at my place on Friday.”

Killian smiled and nodded. Yes. They were all in this together, now. “Thank you. I’m sure Emma will be happy for the invitation.”

The dinner with Ingrid went well, and Killian rested peacefully by Emma’s side that night. His life had taken another unexpected turn with Bae’s departure, but he was beginning to see that happiness was still possible. _Family_ was still possible.

And someday—he hoped—Bae would be back.

Still, he was taken by complete surprise eight days later when Bae called.

He’d gotten in the habit of answering any calls from strange numbers, just in case. But he still caught his breath in surprise when he heard Bae’s tentative voice.

“Dad?”

After a moment of shock, Killian answered, “Bae! Gods, son, it’s so good to hear your voice. Are you alright? Are you safe?”

Bae coughed lightly. “Yeah. Uh, we’re okay. I just… I just needed to talk to you.”

Killian swallowed hard, tears rising in his eyes. So he hadn’t completely lost his place in Bae’s heart. “Thank you. I… Thank you.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Bae still seemed uncertain of what he was willing to say.

Killian jumped in. “Look—I’m not telling Emma. To hell with Fate. She doesn’t need to know. She doesn’t need to do anything. Our lives are here now, and this is where they’ll stay. I’m sorry I ever felt otherwise.”

“Do you really mean that?” Bae’s voice wavered.

“I do. Without a doubt. I’m sorry for not taking this stand earlier. Before…” Killian hesitated and took another deep breath. Was Bae ready to talk about all this, yet? Or was he screwing up again?

“Dad—things are actually kind of rough,” said Bae, his voice thick with emotion. “Becky could only find part-time work, and I haven’t been able to find anything. We’re living in a crappy hotel, and it just—it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

Killian squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn’t too far from what he’d imagined. “Do you need money? I could send you money.”

“Maybe. I—Dad—there’s something else.” Bae’s voice sounded a little wild and desperate. “Dad—Becky’s pregnant. We just found out yesterday. I don’t know what to do. Becky’s family won’t help—her stepdad’s a super conservative asshole, and her mom cares more about him than about Becky. We don’t know what to do. What do we do, Dad? I don’t know what to do.”

Killian stood silent and shocked. Pregnant. Bae was going to be a father.

He didn’t have to this alone, damn it! “Come home,” he said simply. “I’ll send money to pay your way. Come home, and I’ll take care of you. Both of you.”

“Can we really? Will it really be okay?” He could hear the tears in Bae’s voice.

“Yeah. It will be. I love you, Bae. And you love Becky. She’s family, now. Family takes care of family. Come home.”

“Okay,” said Bae, his voice rough with emotion. “We’ll come home.”

*~*

Emma slid the curtain rod into its brackets and stood back to stare at the new floral curtains over the sofa in the basement apartment. “It’s not perfect,” she said to Killian, “but at least this place looks a little less like a bachelor pad. Hopefully Becky will be comfortable.”

Killian nodded, and smiled. He’d been smiling a lot the past three days as they worked out plans for Bae’s return. Just an hour ago they’d finished clearing out the last load of Killian’s possessions, brining all his things up to Emma’s place to get the basement apartment ready for Bae and Becky. It wasn’t exactly the romantic circumstances Emma might have imagined for asking Killian to move in with her, but that didn’t make it any less happy. He stayed at her place most of the time, anyway. Might as well make it official.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I think it’s splendid. Of course we’ll have to help them fix up Bae’s old room into a proper nursery for the baby.”

“If they decide to keep it,” Emma said looking at him sidelong. Was he already fantasizing about himself as the cool grandpa?

“I… Yes. Of course. If they keep it.” Killian looked a little stunned at the thought.

Emma frowned. “What—do you have some conservative streak I didn’t know about?”

“N—no,” he stammered. “It simply didn’t occur to me.”

Emma smiled and rolled her eyes. “Of course not. You’re a guy. Guy’s aren’t used to worrying about this sort of thing. But seriously—they’re both 19. Keeping it will be rough as hell. If they decide not to keep it, we’ll help pay for _that_ , too, right?”

Killian nodded quickly. “Yes. Of course. Whatever we need to do to help them.”

She squeezed his hand and grinned at his eagerness. This might not be the way Emma had planned on filling her house with family, but it would do. And seeing Killian this happy and excited was fantastic after the past month of worry.

An hour later they went to the bus station to meet Bae and Becky. 

The kids both look frazzled and weary when they stepped off the bus.

Killian rushed forward and pulled Bae into his arms for a huge bear hug. Emma smiled and blinked back her tears and strode forward to pull a shocked-looking Becky into a hug as well. “Welcome home.”

Becky stepped back, looking sheepish and timid. “I can’t believe you guys are doing all this for us.”

Emma held her gaze. “Hey—we’re all family now. This is what family does.”

Becky’s eyes lit up with shocked happiness, and a slight smile spread on her face. “I don’t know what to say.”

Emma shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Now, let’s get your bags and get you home.”

They spent the next few days getting the young couple settled into their new place and working out plans to find them new jobs. Even Ingrid came over to help, and cooked a big family dinner for everyone. She and August were on the outs again, and he’d left town on another freelance gig. But other than that Emma felt like she had a bigger and better family than ever.

It was what she’d always wanted. And in spite of the crazy way it had happened, she’d never been happier.

*~*

Three weeks passed quickly and happily as Killian helped Bae and Becky adjust to their new lives. Emma helped Bae find another construction job, and Becky got signed on with a temp agency to do office jobs with the hope of finding something permanent within a few months. All seemed to be going so well. Better than Killian had ever hoped.

One evening Bae sat with him on the front porch.

“We’ve been talking about it over and over—debating, strategizing, trying to figure it all out. And,” Bae took a deep breath, “we’ve finally made up our minds. We’re keeping the baby.” He met Killian’s eyes, a nervous look on his face.

Killian smiled and nodded. “It won’t be easy.”

“I know. We know. Really. But—we love each other. This is our baby. And we want it. I’m not going to be like my real father. I’m going to be a good dad. Like you.” Bae nodded with emphasis.

Killian felt a lump of emotion in his throat. “Thank you, Bae. That means more than you can know. I’m with you in this. I’m here for all of you—always.”

“I know you are.” 

Killian hugged his adopted son, holding him close.

He’d lost so many people over the centuries. But he’d found his family here. And he was going to fight like hell to keep it.

*~*

The next few months passed in a happy, busy blur. Emma had rarely been so tired and hurried, but she wouldn’t trade a minute of it.

She spent her weekends and part of her evenings helping Becky redecorate the little apartment, and remaking Bae’s old room into a proper nursery. And Ingrid had taken a surprising liking to Becky. She came over regularly to help out, and had taken it on herself to teach Becky to cook.

Killian and Bae were determined to build a bassinet by hand, and Emma found her garage filled with a growing number of power tools as the men figured out what they were doing.

One peaceful evening in August they all went to a local park for a picnic dinner. After eating, Emma reclined on a blanket watching Killian kick around a soccer ball with his neighborhood friends. She glanced over to where Bay and Becky sat on a bench. Bay’s hand rested on Becky’s rapidly expanding belly, and he smiled with wonder down at his growing daughter. They still hadn’t settled on a name, but there was time. She wasn’t due until mid-November.

There in the sun, with most of the people she loved best, Emma realized she never wanted this to end. She wanted this life—this family—forever. 

She and Killian had never talked about marriage, but she knew he loved her. They’d already faced enough hardship together to know they could work well as a team whether times were good or not. And, for a while now, she couldn’t possibly imagine a future without him.

Given Killian’s history it probably wouldn’t even occur to him to propose. She could drop hints, but she didn’t really like the idea of being one of those women who pester their boyfriends into proposing. No—far better she just find a quiet evening and bring up the topic frankly and talk it over until they’d settled the issue. Not exactly a story of grand romance, but it suited her. It suited _them_.

Now that she’d thought of it, it seemed so easy. A good conversation, a decision, and then a few weeks later they could gather their loved ones to a courthouse and make it happen, with a family party at home after. That’s all she needed. It would be perfect.

She glanced at Becky again.

It would probably be best if she waited until after the baby. No reason to complicate things even more. And by then it would almost be the holiday season. Maybe they could get married in December and spend Christmas as an official family. August would surely be back by then. His latest split with Ingrid seemed to have been more serious than usual—he’d been gone nearly five months and had only been in contact through a few cryptic emails. But he’d come if she told him she was getting married, wouldn’t he?

She felt her face getting warm. She was probably getting ahead of herself—she should tamp down these thoughts before they ran away with her.

But later that night, when Killian took her in his arms and murmured words of love in her ears, she knew it wasn’t just a flight of fancy. This was real. And she was going to do it.

*~*

The first Sunday in October, Ingrid came over for their weekly family meal. After, while Killian was in the kitchen, helping her clean up, her face grew somber.

“Her birthday is coming soon,” she said.

Killian clenched his jaw, and a knot in his chest tightened. “I know. Not a day goes by when I don’t think of it.”

“What if something happens to draw her to Maine? What will we do?”

Killian had been giving that topic a great deal of thought. “We’ll see if we can stop her.”

“And if we can’t?” Ingrid’s eyes were moist and worried.

“Then we go with her. She’ll not face this alone,” he said simply, hoping with all his heart that it would be that easy.

“And Bae?”

That was the difficult point. He’d told Bae and Becky he’d be here for them, and he intended to keep that promise. He’d have to find a way to meet both obligations—somehow. 

And if worst came to worst, he had a good bit of money saved up, both from his honest labors and from some old treasures he’d brought through to this realm and sold. The money would be enough to keep Bae and Becky going for a year or two, at least. But he prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

“We’ll keep him out of it, if we can,” Killian replied. “And what of August?”

Ingrid sighed, and her shoulders slumped. She’d tried to act as if August’s absence these past months hadn’t troubled her, but from time to time Killian saw the pain show through her tough exterior. He’d come to believe that Ingrid and August truly loved each other, but that their beliefs regarding Emma’s destiny had always been a point on which they couldn’t agree. And now that the time had come, it had proved too much for them.

“I told him to stay out of it. To leave her alone. If Fate takes over, that’s another matter. But I don’t want August forcing the issue. I think he understands. I think he’ll leave her alone.” Ingrid didn’t sound convinced.

Killian grimaced. “I hope you’re right. For all our sakes.”

The sound of laughter drifted from the family room.

They were happy. All of them.

If Emma found out the truththat would all be over.

Damn the Dark One and his bloody curse. Damn him to Hell.

*~*

Late in the evening, just after Ingrid left for home after their regular Sunday dinner, Emma got a strange text from August—the first in months.

“Coming back into town in a few days. Need to talk. Just to you. Private.”

Emma raised her brows in surprise. Had August gotten himself into some sort of trouble, and needed a cop’s expert advice on how to get out of it? She hoped not. But it would be good to finally see him again. To catch up on whatever mysterious stories he’d been tracking the past few months. She didn’t like having people she cared about so out of touch.

“Sure,” she texted back. “Let me know when you get in town.”

Well. That was something new to look forward to. Maybe she could drop hints about her crazy plans for December and get his perspective. She still wasn’t sure if she was being too reckless, or if she might be able to pull this off. It would be good to have one of their nice long talks, again.

Two evenings later after her shift Emma drove to pick up Becky from the office where she’d been doing data entry and filing the past two months. Becky looked flustered and grumpy when she came out to the car and maneuvered her expanding body into the passenger seat.

“What’s wrong?” Emma asked.

Becky shook her head. “Today was so weird. And creepy. I’ve had the chills all afternoon from it.”

Emma frowned and kept the car in park. She wanted to get to the bottom of this. “What happened?”

“I was at lunch at the diner down the block,” said Becky, “when these two creepy hipster guys came up to where I was sitting at the counter. They started asking me all about the baby—when I was due, was I still with the father, was the baby healthy. Just, really invasive stuff.”

Emma’s frown deepened. “What the hell?”

“Seriously!” said Becky. “They were already really creeping me out, and then one of them got this serious look in his eyes, and asked if I’d considered giving her up for adoption.” Becky shook her head, looking pale. “They were staring at my belly like they wanted to reach in and yank her out right then and there. It was totally freaky. Fortunately one of the guys from the office was there and he noticed I was scared. He came and started talking to me about work stuff, and then walked back with me. But then later, after a bathroom break, I looked out the window and saw those same two guys leaning against a car, looking up at the building. Like they were waiting for me. I’ve never been so scared, Emma. What the fuck is going on?”

Emma gripped the steering wheel like she wanted to squeeze the life out it. She felt ready to knock heads together. How dare they terrorize Becky like that! No one came at her family and got away with it. “Did you get their names? Or license plate number?”

Becky shook her head. “No. I was too scared. I couldn’t even think.”

Emma took a deep breath. Yeah. She really wanted to bash some faces in. But practicalities came first. “Okay—I don’t want you to go anywhere alone outside of the office for the week, at least. Maybe longer. One of us will walk you to your office when we drop you off, and we’ll come inside to pick you up. Do you mind eating a packed lunch in the break room?”

“No. I’m okay with that, if it keeps me safe.” Becky wrung her hands together in her lap.

“Okay. Just—don’t go anywhere outside alone, okay? And if you see those guys again, call me. This is close enough to my beat that I can get here quick and put the fear of God in their creepy asses. Got it?”

Becky smiled for the first time that evening. “Sounds like a plan.”

A few days passed without incident, and Emma began to think it was just a random couple of creepers. That sort of thing happened all the time.

Then, Saturday afternoon, she got a panicked call from Becky.

“Emma—I’m at the grocery store. Those guys are here. They cornered me in the dairy isle and offered to pay me if I let them adopt my baby. They want to buy her, Emma!” Her voice rose in a terrified wail. “I managed to get away, and I’m hiding in the bathroom. Please come get me. Please please please.”

A surge of fear and anger shot through Emma, and the lights in the kitchen suddenly flickered. “I’ll be there in five minutes,” she said, dropping the stack of bills she’d been paying at the kitchen table. She grabbed her gun and badge from her bedroom and headed out the door. These guys were in a hell of a lot of trouble.

Killian and Bay were in the garage, fussing with their tools. “Hey,” she called, “Becky’s in trouble. We have to go get her. Now.”

Bay was at the car in seconds, and Killian wasn’t far behind.

*~*

Killian’s heart pounded at the thought of those scoundrels targeting Becky. She was as good as his daughter now. And he could see Bae seething in the back—already flushed red with anger. They’d just have to be careful not do something that would draw the attention of the authorities. The authorities other than Emma, that was.

They all jumped out of the car as soon as Emma parked, and Killian and Bae followed her into the shop and to the bathroom, where Emma went in to fetch Becky.

Becky was pale and shaky, and Bae wrapped his arm around her to support her as they walked back out, Emma in front, Killian guarding the rear.

They’d almost made it to the car when Becky froze and pointed at two blokes out further in the parking lot.

“That’s them! That’s them!” she cried.

“Stay with her,” Bae barked at Emma, and then left Becky’s side and strode toward the two men with fire in his eyes. Killian started after him. He’d like to pound the fellows’ faces into the ground as much as Bae, but he couldn’t let the lad go too far. Not in public like this.

Both men stared at Bae with their mouths hanging open.

“You think you can hassle my girlfriend—threaten to take my daughter—and get away with it, you sons of bitches?” Bae snarled as he approached them.

Both men, slim and unassuming, looked shocked more than frightened. 

The bespectacled one stepped in front of the other. “Bae—is that you?” 

Bae skidded to a halt, his own mouth falling open. He stared back and forth between the two men, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. “John? Michael?”

“It is you!” the bespectacled man said again. “We didn’t know she’s your girlfriend. He didn’t tell us! I swear. Bae—oh God—Bae, I can’t believe it’s you.”

Bae looked shocked, unable to speak.

Killian could sympathize. He’d never set eyes on John and Michael Darling before in his life, but he knew of them from Bae’s stories. 

Finding them here, with them somehow after Bae’s child at the behest of an unknown leader, didn’t bode well. Not for them, and not for Emma.

Fate was rearing her ugly head again, and Killian had no idea how they’d escape her this time.

 

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no update! But I’m back! I really wanted to wrap this all up in a final chapter but it was shaping up to be a 15,000-16,000 word chapter, and that’s a bit much for my tastes. So chapter 4 will officially be the final chapter. I have it partially written and it will be up early next week. Thanks for your patience with this story. I really love it and I’m so glad I finally found the time to finish it. And I also love my readers who put up with my fickle updating schedule. Y’all are the best.

It wasn’t easy to convince Emma to take Becky home by herself. Even when he’d succeeded in spinning a tale about the Darlings being members of Bae’s old crew, sore at being abandoned, and that they needed a bit of a talking to, Killian could see the doubt and confusion in her eyes. Just before getting into the driver’s seat, she lowered her voice and rested her hand on his upper arm. “You won’t do anything that will get you in trouble, will you?” The fear in her voice twisted a knife in his gut. Damn it. More lies upon lies. When would it end?

“I won’t do anything illegal. These boys just need the fear of God put in them so they’ll think twice about pulling something like this again. I won’t hurt them. I promise.”

Emma nodded, still looking unconvinced, and got into the car. Killian sighed as he watched her drive away, and turned to join Bae back with the Darlings. They needed to sort out what the hell was going on.

When they got John and Michael into a private place and heard their tale of woe, Killian could see the change in Bae’s eyes—the guilt, and the determination.

Eventually they parted ways with the Darlings with a promise to speak again soon. Killian knew what was coming before Bae ever spoke.

“We have to save them.” Bae’s voice was low and anguished. “It’s my fault. This whole time I thought they’d lived out their lives in safety. Instead they’ve been under Pan’s thumb, all because they opened their home to me.” He choked on his words.

“The only way to rally enough magic to save them from Pan is for Emma to break that curse. We’ll need whatever is trapped inside that cursed land.” Killian’s heart was heavy in his chest. Bae’s resistance had helped him evade fate this long, but it seemed that their course had been decided long ago. There was no escaping it.

“Yeah. That’s what I was thinking, too.”

Killian swallowed hard. “Your father is there.”

Bae’s reply sealed their fate once and for all. “I know. I’ll be ready.”

Though he felt a knot twisting in his chest, he nodded. “Aye. That’s it, then. We’ll tell her.”

~

“You’re sure they’re not going to bother her again?” Emma asked. She could still hardly believe that any of Bay’s old so-called-friends would do something as stupid as scaring a pregnant girl to get back at him. What the hell was wrong with these people? No wonder Killian had moved Bay away from those influences.

“I’m sure,” Killian replied, his voice rough with emotion. His face was red, and she could tell that the confrontation had been trying for him. It had been trying for all of them.

Emma sighed and shook her head. “Those stupid little assholes! I seriously feel like punching them in their faces.”

“You and me both, love, but we restrained ourselves to threats of violence. It was more than sufficient.”

“Good.” She wrapped her arms around him and leaned into him. He held her close. She felt the tension in his shoulders and back. “I can’t wait until Becky has that baby and we can just focus on being a family, without all this craziness.”

Killian nodded into her shoulder. “Aye. There’s nothing I want more.”

In spite of the horrible afternoon, Emma smiled. This family was hers, and she wasn’t letting go for anything. “Now how about I fill the bath and we relax away this tension. How does that sound?”

“Bloody perfect,” he rumbled. She heard the smile in his words before he pulled back to look into her eyes. The love she saw there made her breath catch in her throat.

She could hardly believe she’d been so lucky to find him—to have this.

“Come on.” She took his hand and pulled him back toward the master bath.

~

Killian stared at the phone in his hand for more than ten minutes before he worked up the will to call Ingrid.

Seconds after he said hello, Ingrid said, “Something’s wrong. I hear it in your voice. What is it?”

Killian took a deep breath to brace himself and then launched into the story of the Darlings. Ingrid made hardly a sound as he spoke. Not until the end.

Her voice wavered. “So this it. You’re telling her.”

“I’m sorry Ingrid. I don’t want to, but I’ve no choice. Bae owes that family his life, and I owe my life to Bae. I’d be nothing but a blackened shell of anger were it not for him. If he needs to save them, I’ll be by his side. I can only hope Emma will forgive me for doing this to her.”

“So do I.” Ingrid paused. “I knew this was coming. August called me last night. He’s back in town. He was planning on telling her. I don’t think he really wanted to tell me, but… there’s so much history between us. I think he felt he owed it to me.”

“We could tell her together. All of us.” As much Killian wanted to have that moment of truth to himself—to let Emma feel the sincerity from him. To believe him, and only him. But he knew full well that their chances of convincing her of the truth were greater as a group. 

“Okay.” Ingrid couldn’t hide the tears in her voice. “I can’t stop this now. I give up. I’ll call August. We’ll tell her together at dinner tomorrow.”

“I’ll get Bae ready. We’ll do it. We’ll face her.” He felt a pit of sickness in his gut, but there was no turning back now. One way or another, Emma would learn the truth. 

~

There was a strange buzz of tension in the house during the regular Sunday dinner. Emma wondered if it was leftover stress from the confrontation with Becky’s harassers, but as the night went on she started to get a hunch that it was something deeper.

Her suspicions were confirmed when there was a knock on the door and Ingrid jumped up to answer. She returned leading August in. Emma noticed he seemed to be walking with a limp, but didn’t say anything because she was so excited to see him.

He’d been so cagey and secretive in his texts, and to see him reunited with Ingrid like this made her heart warm. This reunion made her dreams of family complete. She jumped to her feet and gave him a big hug. “I can’t believe you’re here! I’m so happy to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you, too, kiddo,” he said, cradling the back of her head with his hand as he returned her hug. There was a strange tension in his voice and Emma pulled back to study his face. There were new lines around his eyes and he was paler than usual. She frowned. “Are you…is everything okay?”

He took a deep breath and dodged her gaze. “Not really. But it will be. We need to talk.” He raised his voice. “We all need to talk. About something very important.”

Emma’s confusion grew. She looked around at everyone’s face—the only one who seemed surprised was Becky. Was this what all the nervous tension was about? “Did you…did you all plan this?”

Bay wouldn’t meet her eyes, Ingrid wore a stubborn frown. Killian eyes held a note of sorrow. What the hell was going on? “Guys?”

“You should sit down,” said Ingrid.

Emma shook her head. “No. What’s going on?” She looked back at August’s tired and worn face, and a horrible suspicion filled her mind. “Are you sick? Do you have cancer or something?”

“No,” he said with no conviction in his voice. “I don’t have cancer. But I’m not well, either.”

She was right. He was sick. And it had to be something bad. “August—what is it? And why am I the last one to know?” Why the hell would he tell Killian and Bay before he told _her_?

“This is about more than just my health, Emma. Please—sit down.”

Emma took another glance around at the anxious faces and nodded, a knot of worry twisting in the pit of her stomach. She stepped back to her seat beside Killian and lowered herself to the couch. “Okay. I’m sitting. Now what the hell is going on?”

She was a little surprised when Ingrid spoke first. “Do you remember back when I still worked at the group home, and we first met each other?”

Emma’s swirling thoughts froze. This was the last place she expected this conversation to go.   
“Yes. Of course I do.”

Ingrid’s voice grew low and intense. “And you remember what scared you when I first started talking about adopting you?”

How could she forget? Ingrid had started raving about how Emma had powers—like magic—and was coming into her own. She’d practically thrown Emma in front of a speeding car to prove it.

Emma had run—of course she ran. She was always running, back then. When one of the other supervisors at the group home found her early the next morning and brought her back she’d been certain that her hopes of a permanent home had once again been shattered. But Ingrid had been so sorry. She said she’d forgotten to take her meds for a mental illness and it had just been an episode. She promised to fix it. To stick to her meds and get therapy. She begged Emma to give her a second chance.

It hadn’t been easy, but after five more months of rebuilding trust Emma had been ready to go through with the adoption. They hadn’t spoken of that incident in all the years they’d been a family. But Emma knew it must haunt the back of Ingrid’s mind just like it haunted hers. For the first five years with Ingrid Emma kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Ingrid to have another episode, or a full psychotic break.

Thank god it had never happened.

“Yes,” said Emma, simply and quietly. She wouldn’t drag Ingrid’s baggage out in front of everyone.

Tears rose in Ingrid’s eyes. “Remember that night while we talk to you. But also remember all the years we’ve had together. Fourteen great years. Remember how much I love you—how much we all love you—and try not to jump to any assumptions. And please, please try to forgive us for what we’re about to tell you.”

Before Emma had a chance to speak—before she could even begin to process what Ingrid had said—August began to tell a story. One he’d clearly practiced.

She felt her jaw dropping and her head shaking as he went on and on about princesses and fairytales and magic cabinets and portals between worlds.

This was worse by far than what Ingrid had said and done on that long ago night. Every new detail hit her like a hammer blow. 

When August got to the bit about a curse and a prophesy—a prophesy about _her_ —she couldn’t take it anymore.

“I can’t believe this is happening. Why are you doing this? Why are you saying these things? Ingrid?” She looked up to her foster mother. Please let her say something to break them out of this insane dream.

Instead Ingrid shook her head, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. “He’s telling the truth, Emma. You’re brimming with magic. It fills you up and spills out of you everywhere you go. It draws all of us in—all of us from that other land. You have no idea how many I’ve had to trick and turn away from you before they found you.”

Emma felt her heart crumbling in her chest. How could they do this? Didn’t they know how much she needed them? They were her _family_. How could they play a cruel joke like this? She swallowed a painful lump in her throat. “I don’t know why you thought this would be a good prank, but it’s not. It’s not funny, and you need to stop. Now.”

Instead of answering, Ingrid turned away, burying her face in her hands while her shoulders shook with silent weeping.

August shook his head, his own eyes brimming with moisture. “None of us wanted to hurt you, Emma. I’m sorry. But this isn’t a prank. We’re telling the truth.”

Desperate, angry sadness washed over her. “No. You’re sharing the same delusion. Ingrid went off her meds again, and—and you’re sick, too. And somehow she convinced you of all this—“

“No, Emma.” August raised his voice. “You have to listen to us. Ingrid has never been on medication. What she told you all those years ago was the truth. It’s everything since that’s been a lie.”

No. No. She needed someone on her side. “Killian—you need to help me talk to them. Help me get through to them. They need help.”

He was pale, every muscle in his frame tensed, as if he was ready to explode. But he was shaking his head. Why was he shaking his head?

She felt her heart drop into a deep, dark pit, even before he spoke.

“They’re not lying, Emma. We—Bay and I—we’re from the same place. From their realm.”

Emma had no words. Her whole world had just crumbled into dust beneath her feet, and she had no words.

“Bay—is this true? I need to know. Please. I need to know what’s going on,” Becky pleaded from where she sat on the other couch.

Bay nodded. “It’s true. I’m so sorry, Becks. I never thought I’d have to face this part of my past again. I thought I’d left it behind forever—that I’d be a part of your world forever. But this curse—this whole thing. It pulled us in. I’m so sorry. Please—I don’t want this to change things between us. Please. I love you.” Bay’s voice shook with emotion.

Emma’s cheeks were wet, though she didn’t know when she started crying. Her whole chest ached like it was being crushed under a truck. “Killian…why? I don’t understand. Why are you doing this to me?”

The future that had seemed so bright less than an hour ago was turning to ashes and blowing away on the wind. 

Something was wrong with them. Something had happened to them. How could all of the people she loved go insane at the exact same time in the exact same way?

“I didn’t know when we first met, I swear it, Emma,” said Killian. “I didn’t even know when we started dating. If I’d known you were one of us I’d have found a way to tell you. I’d never have started a relationship with you until you knew the truth. You have to believe me.”

“I’m not one of you!” Her voice came out in a rough, raspy shout that she barely recognized as her own voice. The instant she shouted all the lights in the apartment flickered wildly and the bulb of the nearest lamp burst with the soft tinkling of thin glass.

Emma jumped to her feet and spun, staring first at Killian’s heartbroken face, then at Bay clutching Becky’s hands while she quietly cried.

“Don’t you see, Emma,” said Ingrid from behind her.

Emma turned to meet her foster mother’s eyes, red from crying. Ingrid continued, “That was you. The lights. It was your magic bursting out along with your emotions. It’s happened before—probably more times than I even know. But you remember all the times, don’t you? I know you have to, even if you never let yourself believe what was really happening. You have to believe us, Emma.”

Emma couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped from her lips. “I can’t. How can I? How can any of this be true? I’m not magic. I’m not… I can’t…” She sobbed again.

No. It wasn’t true. I couldn’t be. But an hour ago she wouldn’t have believed that her entire family would turn on her like this and back her into an impossible corner that seemed to be hurting them almost as much as it was hurting her. There was no way they would do this to her unless…

“Emma,” Killian’s voice was soft but steady.

She turned back to see he’d risen to his feet. He held out his hand as if he could calm her with a gesture.

“Please, love. You know we wouldn’t do this to you unless it was true. I’d never hurt you like this unless there was no choice. Use your superpower. I’ve seen you detect a lie dozens of times. You have to know that we aren’t lying now. Please. “

“If what you’re saying is true then you’ve been lying to me all along without me knowing it.” Emma’s throat hurt and tears burned her eyes. “So my power isn’t exactly foolproof, is it?”

“Emma…” He stepped toward her, reaching out to touch her.

How could she trust him? How could she trust any of them ever again?

It was too much.

She shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t.” Without pausing to think she spun and dashed past Ingrid and August to yank open the front door.

“Emma, wait!” August’s voice rang out behind her.

But she couldn’t. She had to run. It was all there was left to do.

She ran for several blocks before she slowed down to catch her breath. None of this felt real. None of it except for the ache in her chest and her throat tight with emotion.

She shivered and hugged herself for warmth. She was only wearing a light sweater. She’d been lucky she was actually wearing shoes. But she didn’t have her wallet or her phone.

What was she supposed to do now? Where was she supposed to go?

She couldn’t go home. Not yet. She wasn’t even sure if that house could ever really be home again, after what happened tonight.

She continued walking—stumbling forward into the ever deepening night as cars zoomed past, oblivious to the lonely, lost girl that walked along their roads.

A few minutes later she heard the familiar rumble of a motorcycle as it pulled up to park just ahead of her.

“Go away, August,” she said, still hugging herself tight, as if her arms could be a barrier around her heart.

He swung his leg over the bike and stood holding out her red leather jacket. “I thought you might be cold.”

She eyed him warily, but couldn’t deny how freezing the night air was getting. She stepped forward to grab the jacket. She hastily pulled it on and then stepped back a few paces, hugging herself again. What could she say? What could he possibly expect her to say?

After a moment she finally found a question worth asking. “Is Becky okay?”

A small smile flicked across August’s face. “Yeah. She is. She’s doing a lot better than you are, actually. She said she always knew there was something special about Bay. And about you. She said the first time she met you she felt like she was being hugged by a big ball of light. Charming girl.”

Emma shook her head, new anger finally loosening the tightness in her throat. “So you managed to convince her of all this madness?”

August sighed. “If you’d really let yourself stop to think about everything we’ve told you, you’d see that it’s not madness. Bizarre—extraordinary—seemingly impossible. But not mad. Because all the pieces fit together too well. Because it explains so much that you never had answers for before tonight.”

Emma looked down. No. She couldn’t let herself entertain those thoughts. Could she? But light bulbs didn’t just explode.

Suddenly memories of dozens of other strange coincidences flooded her mind—of times when strange electrical issues or other weirdness happened around her when her emotions were high.

She shook her head again.

She couldn’t believe in magic and curses and prophesies. 

But if she didn’t she’d lose everyone she loved. Her throat tightened back up at the thought of Killian—at how excited and happy she’d been while she mentally planned out her proposal and wedding. Tonight he’d looked so desperate for her to believe him.

And he was right. Her inner lie detector hadn’t tingled at all during that whole nightmarish conversation. Not even once.

“Emma—there’s something that I showed Becky which convinced her once and for all. And I’d like to show it to you, too. Please.”

Emma raised her head and looked at the man she’d trusted and relied on and confided in for half her life. It was insane—everything about this night was insane. But how could she deny him this one last chance?

“Okay.” She squeezed her arms even more tightly around her. “I’ll see whatever this so-called proof is. Do you have it with you?”

He nodded. “I do.” He took a few limping steps toward her, a pained expression on his face as he walked. He stopped a couple of feet in front of her, and then, to her surprise, he leaned down and started to tug up the left leg of his jeans.

What she saw there made her wonder if this night really might be a dream after all.

~

Killian sat slumped on one of the couches, Ingrid sat on the other. Neither of them had spoken more than ten words since August left nearly a half-hour ago. What was there to say?

They were the two people who should have been the most trustworthy and most reliable in Emma’s life, and instead they’d just broken her heart.

And, Killian couldn’t help but think, broken their own in the process. 

Ingrid’s face was pale, her eyes red, and her face blank and drained. He suspected he looked just as bad. He’d known tonight was going to be hard, but he hadn’t realized just how much it would really hurt to see all of Emma’s trust and love crumbling right before his eyes.

The worst part was, he’d brought this on himself.

He should have pulled himself together after Bae ran away. He should have bitten the bullet and told Emma the truth, just as he’d been prepared to before Bae’s departure.

There were so many things he should have done differently. But it was too late, now. What was done was done, and he’d have to face the consequences of his selfish choices.

The sound of the door opening shook him out of his trance, and he sat up straight, ready to leap to his feet. Then August walked in. Alone. And closed the door behind him.

Killian slumped back again. “You didn’t find her.”

“Actually, I did.”

Ingrid was the first to jump to the edge of her seat this time. “Did you show her? Did she see it?”

August’s answering smile was both sad and relieved. “She did. She must have been starting to believe even before I found her, otherwise she would have just seen my leg as a leg, like most unbelievers would. But she saw the wood. I even got her to knock on it with her knuckles.”

Killian had hardly believed the sight of August’s magical affliction when the man first pulled up his trouser leg to show it to Becky. Apparently agreeing to continue lying to Emma had been the final straw for the magic that had turned Pinocchio into a “real boy.” The man was on his way to becoming a puppet again. Yet another reason for them to break the curse with all haste. And another glaring proof of how utterly wrong it had been of them to keep Emma in the dark about her true identity.

Killian’s heart was in his throat. “So she believes?”

“She doesn’t want to, but she does.” August sighed. “This still won’t be easy. Knowing that we’ve all been keeping this huge secret from her for so long—it hurt her. So much.” The pain in his voice was obvious. He loved her, too. They all did.

“We fucked up,” Killian murmured. “She may never trust any of us again.”

Ingrid only shook her head as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said August. “She trusted us, and we hid the biggest truth about our lives and hers from her. She’s not getting over this anytime soon.” He shook his head. “She said she needed to be alone a little longer. I gave her some money and took her to an all-night diner, so she wouldn’t be stuck out in the cold. Ingrid—we should drop her car off there for her, so she has a way home. And we should get out of here. Give you some space. Emma won’t want us here when she gets back.” He addressed his final words to Killian.

Killian agreed—but what he didn’t dare say in reply was that he wasn’t sure Emma would want _him_ there, either.

After they left he felt at a loss. Bae and Becky had gone back downstairs so that Bae could finish telling Becky the true story of his life. The girl seemed willing to stand by him—to forgive him. But Killian still didn’t envy his task. Nothing would be same for them after tonight. Nothing would be the same for any of them.

He worked off his nervous energy doing the dishes and tidying the kitchen. It seemed a trivial thing to do after all that had happened, but life still carried on. They’d still need a clean kitchen for breakfast in the morning. Besides, he needed something normal to hold onto right now.

Once the kitchen was clean he felt at a loss, again. He wanted to find Emma. To talk to her. But he needed to give her the space that she wanted. He couldn’t force things.

There was no way he could fall asleep before she came home.

Finally he went into the closet of the room they used as an office. When he moved in he’d stashed an old suitcase there. He’d bought the case at a thrift store not long after coming to this realm, and the relics of his old life had been stashed inside of it ever since.

He set the case on the coffee table and sat on the couch. He opened the case and stared down at the items it held. He hadn’t looked in here for nearly three years.

His old hook and brace sat at the very top. He’d learned quickly after his arrival in this land that his old hook frightened people, so he’d set it aside as soon as he spotted a modern prosthetic in a pawn shop. That first used prosthetic had since been upgraded to a new, custom-fit model. But there were still times when he missed the old hook that had served him so well for more than two centuries.

He lifted the hook and rubbed his finger along the smooth, cool curve of it.

He thought he’d left his past as Captain Hook behind him—but the past had a nasty way of rearing its head when it was least wanted. There was no escaping it.

~

August popped into the diner to give Emma her keys about a half hour after leaving her there. He didn’t try to force any conversation, only telling her where the car was parked and saying that she should “take all the time you need.”

As if there would ever be enough time to make her okay with this.

Nothing would ever be okay again. Not after seeing the way the wood of his lower leg transitioned directly into living flesh with no break or gap. Not after sitting here, her coffee clutched in her hands, while her brain endlessly poured over all the incidents from her past that might have been—probably were—magic.

She held out her mug to the waitress for a refill and shivered a little when the woman left her, though she wasn’t cold anymore.

She had to go home. She couldn’t stay here forever.

But this place—this drab little diner—felt so much more real than anything she would find waiting for her at home. 

Stuff like this wasn’t supposed to happen. People weren’t supposed to find out over family dinner that they’re really a fairytale princess and their foster mom is the Snow Queen and their almost-dad is the grown-up version of Pinocchio. This couldn’t be her life. But it was.

She’d seen it. She’d felt it. There was no going back from this.

August had refused to tell her who Killian had been back in that fairytale land. She had a dark suspicion, though it seemed too ludicrous to be true. But August being a former puppet was even more ludicrous.

She had to go home. God, she didn’t know how to face Killian again.

Another two refills later she managed to will her body to move. She found her car just where August had said it would be.

The drive home was way too short.

Emma froze outside her front door. She reminded herself that Killian was the same man he’d always been. She just hadn’t known exactly who that man was. Somehow that thought did nothing to comfort her.

Finally she gritted her teeth and opened the door.

Killian looked up as she walked in. He sat on the couch in the light of a single lamp. No one had fixed the burst bulb in the other lamp, yet. His eyes were wide and nervous, and a battered old suitcase sat on the coffee table in front of him with an assortment of odd objects next to it. The most prominent of the objects was a shining steel hook set in a black leather brace.

Damn it. Her dark suspicion was seeming ever more likely.

She swallowed hard. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied. “Are you… okay?”

A mirthless laugh bubbled up her throat. “Uh, no. No. Definitely not okay.”

His face fell. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

She sighed and walked over to sit on the armchair a bit away from him. She wasn’t ready to touch him, again, yet. “I get it. It would be nice to ask normal questions. But I think we’re a little past normal.”

They sat in silence for a moment that seemed to last an hour. This was the man she loved—the man she’d be prepared to marry. But at the same time he also felt like a stranger. Finally she found a question that felt safe. “How is Becky?”

Killian looked down at his hands. “Not great—but a bit better than you are, I think. I think she and Bae will manage to get through this.”

Her heart twisted at the unspoken implication—that he wasn’t any more sure than she was that _they_ could make it through this. “Good. Good.” She sighed.

She had so much she needed to say. So many questions she needed answered. But where to start? “I… I think Ingrid is right. About the magic thing.” That was what had pressed on her mind the most tonight.

“You think so?” Killian asked, cautiously.

Emma squeezed her lips together. Now that she’d thought about it hard she could pinpoint more than a dozen incidents that might qualify as “magic,” but she’d focused in on two that stood out to her. “When I was nineteen I was going through a phase. Ingrid wanted me to go to college. I wanted to work and travel. We couldn’t get along. We were always fighting. So when I met that sexy BMX racer who lived on the road he seemed like something out of a romance novel. I got mixed up with him really fast. Way too fast. After just three weeks he was ready to move on—to follow the race circuit around the country. And he asked me to go with him. We spent a few days talking about it, and I kept waffling. I wanted adventure, but I’d spent enough time in his van that I was starting to doubt that was the kind of adventure I wanted. Finally, the night before he wanted to leave, we got in a big fight. He’d been drinking. We both had—but he’d been drinking more than me. And he got so angry at me for not making up my mind. He called me all sorts of horrible things. I couldn’t stand it, so I stormed out of that stinky van of his. And he followed me. And he grabbed my arm so hard it hurt. And when I told him to let me go, he slapped me. Hard.” Her throat tightened. She hadn’t talked about this since just after it happened. “I was so scared and panicked. And then all of a sudden the headlights of his van came on and his horn started blaring. He was so surprised that he let me go. And I hit him with a hard right hook. Knocked him flat on the ground. I walked away and never looked back, and his horn kept blaring the whole damn time.”

Killian nodded. “I see.”

Emma sucked in a deep breath. She was starting to see, too. Magic in this world wouldn’t look like fairy dust or swirls of light and smoke. But maybe it would look like strange coincidences and weird mechanical and electrical issues. It all made so much sense now that she considered magic a legitimate possibility. “There are more incidents. But the other one that stands out to me happened my rookie year as a cop. I walked in on an armed robbery, and the perp—this big scary guy—spun around and pointed his gun right at me while I was still fumbling to get mine out of the holster. I swear he was going to do it. His finger was twitching to pull that trigger. I’d never been so terrified in my life. But then he cried out in pain and dropped the gun. My partner and I took him down fast—flat on the ground and handcuffed in less than a minute. And I noticed his trigger hand. His whole palm looked red—like it had been burned.” She shook her head. “I didn’t have any explanation for it then, so I tried not to think about it. But I have an explanation now.”

Killian held her gaze. “Yes. You do.”

She felt tears rising in her eyes, again. It was all too much, but there was no avoiding it. “I’ve seen August in shorts. He doesn’t have a prosthetic leg. He never has.” Killian’s eyes looked impossibly sad as she spoke. “It’s all true, isn’t it?” Her voice shook—she couldn’t help it.

“It is,” he said simply.

Somehow his simple statement hammered the truth home harder than anything else had tonight. She blinked back her tears. She couldn’t fall apart. Not yet. She needed more answers. Her eyes locked on the hook sitting on the table.

Time to rip off the band-aid.

She pointed at the hook. “Is this your low-key way of telling me that you’re really Captain Hook?”

He nodded, and the lines around his eyes stood out stark in the dim light. “Yes. It is.”

“Fuck.” Her voice shook again and she rubbed her face with both hands to wipe away the tears. She hadn’t wanted it to be true. “So… so did Peter Pan really cut off your hand and feed it to a crocodile?” It seemed like a stupid question to ask, but she didn’t know what else to say.

“No. Nothing in the Disney film is accurate. The original Barrie story is a bit closer, but even that is pretty far from the truth. Bae’s father cut off my hand just after he murdered Milah. At that point in time his preferred style of dress made him look rather reptilian, so I did call him my crocodile. That’s where the similarity to versions told in this realm ends.”

She blinked a few times, but most of her tears had receded. Good. He was being frank. She needed frankness right now. “So you told me the truth about Bay and Milah.”

He nodded. “I tried to tell you as much of the truth as I possibly could without…”

“Without telling me the actual truth,” she finished for him. She didn’t know whether to feel happy about his past attempts at honesty or not. “Did you really serve in the navy before you became a…a pirate?”

“I did.” He told her a bit more about his past, then. About serving an unjust king and losing his brother. About Peter Pan and turning pirate. About Baelfire (she could understand changing his name to Baylor) and his father.

“The Dark One,” she repeated after Killian finished the story of Milah’s death and his own exodus to Neverland. “So he—he’s the one who cast this curse?”

Killian shook his head. “No. He designed the curse, but he needed to use someone else to cast it. I’m not exactly sure why. I’ve never been an expert on magic. An evil queen cast the curse, but the Dark One designed it with one purpose in mind: to find his way back to his son. That’s why Bae ran when I told him the truth about you.”

All the pieces of the puzzle fit together now. Why Bae ran. Why Killian had decided to keep the truth from her. He must have been terrified of losing her—either out of being dumped as a lunatic or to the clutches of the evil queen or the Dark One, whichever got to her first. But it still didn’t matter. “You should have told me anyway. You shouldn’t have kept this from me.”

He looked down again. “I know. I was wrong. I was selfish. I’m sorry.” He raised his head, his eyes glistening with tears. “I’ll spend the rest of my life fighting to make things right again, if you’ll let me. I had no right to keep this truth from you. I’m so sorry, Emma.”

Her own tears rose again. “I can almost understand why Ingrid and August lied,” she said. “They might as well be my parents, and parents lie to their kids all the time to keep them safe. But you were supposed to be my partner. It wasn’t your call to keep this from me. You had no right to do that to me.”

“I know.”

She was glad that he wasn’t trying to make excuses or justify what he’d done. But it still hurt worse than anything that had ever happened to her. Her whole chest ached and there was no holding back the tears that rolled down her face. “I was going to ask you to marry me,” she choked out. “I was going to wait until a few weeks after the baby came, to let things settle down, and then I was going to ask you to marry me. I knew it would take you another year or two to work up the confidence to do it yourself, and I didn’t want to wait that long.” Her throat closed up, and she shook her head, her vision blurring. Still, she could see Killian’s stricken expression.

“Emma…I…I don’t know what to say.” 

“Neither do I.”

He reached out to her, but she flinched away. She still loved him. She would probably always love him. But she didn’t know if she could be with him anymore. Not after this.

She stood and tried to wipe away some of her tears. “You need to sleep out here, tonight.”

He didn’t try to fight it. He only nodded. “I understand.”

She stood looking at him a moment, struggling to find the right words, but nothing more would come. She shook her head and walked back to the bedroom, locking the door behind her. She didn’t bother to turn on the light before she slumped down on the bed.

There was no fighting back her emotions anymore. Her whole body shook with sobs, and there was nothing she could do to stop them.

~

Killian leaned against the wall outside their bedroom door as he listened to Emma crying. All he wanted to do was to go in and take her in his arms and tell her that everything would be alright. But that was the last thing she wanted, and he needed—above all else—to respect her now, the way he should have from the start. Besides, the words would have been a lie. Everything was not alright, nor was it likely to be alright anytime in the foreseeable future.

Several times he reached out to the doorknob, but he always managed to pull himself back. She didn’t want him tonight. He needed to give her some space.

Eventually she stopped crying—or at least stopped crying loudly enough for him to hear. He shuffled back to the couch and sank down with a sigh. He was so exhausted he couldn’t think straight. But how could he possibly sleep when Emma was in the next room hurting, and he was the one who hurt her?

He grimaced and forced himself to lie down. He needed to at least try.

Dark and torturous thoughts spun through his mind, keeping him at least partially awake for most of the night.

He wasn’t sure when he finally slipped into a deep slumber, but when he was startled awake the sun was already up.

Emma walked out of their room already in uniform, her hair slicked back into a bun at the nape of her neck, her hat perched on her head.

He half sat up and opened his mouth, but before he could speak Emma said, “I’m going to work. I’ll buy some breakfast on the way in. You should go to work, too. We’ve still got a mortgage to pay, even if I am a fairytale princess.”

She was already headed for the door when he managed to formulate a reply. “Emma—can we talk? Later? This evening, maybe?”

She grasped the doorknob and looked away from him. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about things, yet. Just give me some space, Killian—okay?”

“Okay,” he murmured in reply. 

Without another word, she left. The click of the door latch felt as if it was a gate between him and her locking tight, and he may never be able to open it again.

~

Emma did everything she could to push the events of last night out of her head so she could focus on her work. She focused on working her beat and responding to calls in her area. But Benny, her partner, knew something was going on. He raised his eyebrows when Emma asked him to pass up Killian’s store for another coffee destination. “Trouble at home?”

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

Benny let it go, but there was no denying that her focus was off all day. No matter how hard she tried not to think about what had happened, her mind kept going back to the way August’s leg felt where it transition from wood into flesh without even a seam. And to the utter heartbreak in Ingrid’s eyes. And to Killian’s barely concealed desperation.

At the end of her shift Benny gave her a frank look. “Look, Swan, I know you don’t want to talk about your personal stuff. But if you need someone, I’m here. Or there’s Denise. Or Leslie. Just take care of yourself, y’know?”

She sighed and smiled. “I know. Thanks.”

“And I know you have about two dozen sick days saved up,” added Benny. “If you need a day or two to figure things out, or whatever, you should do it. Okay?”

Somehow his little words of comfort and solidarity made her feel better than anything else had since the whole insane business started last night. She nodded. “Okay. I’ll think about. See you tomorrow—maybe.”

Benny laughed. “See you tomorrow maybe, too.”

Emma changed into her civilian clothes in the locker room and drove to a nearby sandwich shop for dinner. She wasn’t ready to head home yet. Not with Killian there waiting to talk.

Last night she’d wanted more than anything to let him hold her and comfort her. He was her best friend and her lover and she’d wanted to turn to him—to vent her feelings to him and know that he was there for her. But she couldn’t. Because he was one of the people who’d hurt her in the first place. She didn’t know how to deal with that—she didn’t know how to get over it.

After a couple of hours of taking up space in a corner booth she finally left. She had to go somewhere—to talk to someone. But every time she thought about Killian fresh tears rose in her eyes. She still wasn’t ready to face him.

She gave it a few minutes thought, and then turned her car toward Ingrid’s neighborhood. Facing her foster mom would still hurt, but not as bad as it would hurt to face Killian, right now.

Ingrid’s face lit up with a mix of shock, happiness and wariness when she opened the door to find Emma waiting. She quickly ushered Emma inside.

“Is August here—because I don’t really feel like talking to him right now,” said Emma. August was the one who claimed he wanted to tell her the truth all along, but wussed out every single time. Ingrid’s lies might have been misguided, but at least she stuck to her principles instead of letting someone else push her around.

“He’s not.” Ingrid shook her head. “Can I…can I get you some tea?”

Emma sighed. “Sure. Why not?” It would give her a chance to sit down and collect her thoughts.

Once they were finally both settled at the kitchen table with their mugs of tea, Emma started talking. “So… I don’t have a lot of choice but to move forward with the assumption that you’re all telling me the truth. You’ve given me enough proof. But a part of me still doesn’t want to believe in all this until I actually get to Maine and break this damn curse and see what happens.”

“So you’ll go?” 

“I don’t know.” Emma squeezed her mug. “I mean, August seems to think that the magic of the curse will draw me in one way or another, so it’d be better to go myself than to have some random strangers from that…that other place show up and throw me in the trunk of their car. But on the other hand, I could just say screw it and stay here and hope that nothing ever comes for me. I don’t know.”

Ingrid was silent for a minute before answering. “That’s what I wanted for most of the time we’ve been together. I wanted to pretend that this world was all there is and all there ever would be and hope that the curse never caught up with you. But recent events have shown me that I was only deluding myself. A curse that can reach into a realm without magic isn’t something to treat lightly. It was a mistake for me to do so.”

Emma took a sip of her tea, almost hot enough to burn her tongue. She’d welcome a burn right now—it would reassure her that yes, all of this was real. “So you think saying screw it won’t be a viable option?”

“After all that’s happened over the past year I’m quite confident that it wouldn’t. And I hate that. I hate that you’re on a path you didn’t chose and there’s no way to help you escape it. I would if I knew how. But that might be selfish of me.”

This took Emma aback. “Selfish? How is it selfish to want to protect me from a curse?”

Ingrid’s smile radiated sorrow. “It’s selfish because only you can break the curse, and a whole kingdom full of people is trapped in some sort of prison until you do. And it’s selfish because…” She hesitated, but then pressed forward. “It’s selfish because I know your real parents are in that bubble in Maine, and I’m scared that when you find them you won’t need me anymore.” She looked down at her tea, avoiding Emma’s gaze.

Emma’s chest felt tight. She wasn’t supposed to be responsible for the fate of an entire kingdom. She didn’t ask for this. She didn’t want this. “I just want to go back to the way things were,” she murmured.

“Me too.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, sipping their tea without meeting each other’s eyes.

Emma’s mind circled around the idea of escape—of running—of avoiding this fate. But it always came back around to the same conclusion. “I have to break this curse for Bae to find a way to free the Darling family from Peter Pan.” She winced as she spoke—that particular dilemma still felt too absurd to be true. “And I have to break it if I ever want to meet the people who thought that putting me in an enchanted cabinet with an eight year old was a better idea than keeping me.” She didn’t understand that one. She wasn’t sure she could ever understand that one until she had a chance to meet them, face to face, so that she could ask them _why_. “And I have to break the curse to save August from this _thing_ that’s happening to him. But after—do I have to stay? Will I be trapped? Or can I come back here and have my life again?”

Ingrid squeezed her lips together and shook her head. “I don’t know. I wish I did, but I don’t. I’m sorry.”

Fresh tears welled in the corners of Emma’s eyes and she blinked them back. “So there’s a good chance that this is going to be a one-way trip.” Her home—her home that she’d worked so hard on and been so proud of—would be lost to her. But the family she’d tried to build in that home was already in shambles. Maybe it was time to let it go.

“I won’t force you to do this, Emma. But fate and curses find a way. I don’t think there’s any stopping it. All we can do is to prepare for it as best as we can.”

Emma swallowed a knot of fear in her throat. “There’s only two weeks left.”

“I know.”

Emma nodded a few times. So. This was it. No turning back. “Okay. So. Back there—in that other place—you had magic, right?”

Ingrid nodded. “I did. But there’s more. There’s something I still need to confess to you. It’s been eating me up inside, and you deserve to know the truth. You see, the fairytales about the Snow Queen got one thing right—I was a villain.”

Emma swallowed hard at Ingrid’s frank confession.

Ingrid continued, “Over the past few days I’ve found myself wondering if maybe I wasn’t just lying to you to protect you. Maybe I was also lying to protect myself. I never wanted to have to admit to you what kind of a monster I used to be. I hurt people. I even killed people. Some was accidental, but some was on purpose. Before it was all done and I decided to come here, I froze a whole kingdom and left them trapped. For all I know they still are trapped. And no matter how much good I’ve done in the years since—no matter how much I’ve changed—nothing will wipe away what I did in the past. I was a villain, and I don’t deserve a happy ending.” A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she didn’t bother to wipe it away.

Emma clutched her mug even tighter, the heat of the tea turning her fingers red. Killian had been a villain, too. Was this the world where villains came when they wanted a fresh start? A chance to be _good_? And Emma had drawn them both in like a magnet. But when Killian told her he was worried that once she found out about the kind of man he’d really been she wouldn’t want to be with him anymore, she’d told him that the past didn’t matter. All that mattered was who he’d become. Did that sentiment still apply now that she knew the truth he’d been hiding?

She closed her eyes and shook her head. She couldn’t think about Killian right now. It hurt too much. She had to focus on Ingrid, and on what needed to be done next.

She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. “Your past isn’t what’s important right now. Our future—and this curse—that’s what matters.” Emma’s mind was made up. “I need to come stay with you. I’ll schedule a vacation to start a couple of days before my birthday. I’m going to have to work at least a few days before then, but I’ll try to take a few sick days, too. In every free minute we have you need to teach me how to use my magic.” She lifted her chin and met Ingrid’s eyes. “If I have to face this cursed place, at least I won’t have to go in unarmed.”

Ingrid took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

 

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of this story really got away from me. If I’d kept a more narrow focus on Captain Swan I might have been able to wrap it up in 10,000 words. But the idea of Emma first arriving in Storybrooke knowing exactly who she was and what she needed to do (with her own Enchanted-Forest-Family at her side) was way too fascinating for me to skim over, so instead I dove right in. And it was about 21,000 words long. So for your reading convenience I split this crazy long chapter into two parts, and it'll be posted here as chapter 4 and chapter 5, which will be labeled chapter 4a and chapter 4b on my Tumblr (mediumsizedfountain). And I’m posting both of them right now! I know that's not really Ao3 typical behavior, but I'm done and I need to get it out there so I don't have it hanging over me anymore. So enjoy 2 chapters at once! Thanks so much for reading and sticking with me through this randomly updated and very different little AU of mine. Love you all!

Killian managed to push himself through his workday, but his mind was on Emma the whole time.

When he got home her car was in the driveway. His heart raced as he rushed up the steps to the door and went inside.

He found her in the bedroom stuffing two large suitcases with clothes and personal items. His eyes widened. “Emma? What are you doing?”

She sighed, and her shoulders slumped.

She was leaving him. Why had he even asked? Of course she was leaving him. That was what he’d feared all along, and he’d brought it on himself.

Emma didn’t meet his eyes when she spoke to him. “I’m going to stay with Ingrid for the next couple of weeks, until my birthday. I guess I’m going to have to go through with this whole thing, so, uh, Ingrid is going to try to help me learn how to control my magic before… before, you know. So that’s what I need to focus on right now, and it’ll be easier for me to focus if I’m staying with her.”

Killian nodded. What was there to say? Nothing would change what he’d done.

“And,” Emma said, “August needs a place to stay. He gave up his lease last time he left town and I don’t want him around while I’m at Ingrid’s. I told him he could crash on the couch here.”

“Of course,” said Killian softly. “It’s your house. He’s always welcome.”

“Okay.” She turned back to her packing, zipping shut one suitcase and adding more items to the other.

Killian bit down on his bottom lip and swayed on his feet. Was this it? Was this goodbye? “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Her posture stiffened. “Nope. I’ve got it covered.” She pulled the zipper on her second suitcase shut with vicious tug.

She was never going to forgive him, was she? He sighed. “Can I at least help you carry your bags down to the car?”

Her shoulder’s relaxed a little and for the first time in the whole conversation she lifted her eyes to meet his. She was trying to be so strong, but he could still see the pain behind those eyes. “Fine,” she said simply.

She picked up a toiletry bag, her purse and one of the suitcases, and he carried the other. Without another word he helped her get everything into the back of her car. His chest tightened again as she circled to the driver’s side door. He couldn’t leave things like this.

He rested his good hand on the door, holding it shut. “Emma—I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying. I’m sorry for being selfish. I’m sorry for letting my fear guide me. And above all else I’m sorry for hurting you. But one thing I will never be sorry for is falling in love with you. That hasn’t changed, and it never will. I need you to know that.”

Emma squeezed her lips together and blinked rapidly to hold back tears. “I do know that. I do. I just…. You knew who I was before we moved in together.”

Killian nodded. “I did.”

“You knew the truth before things got so serious—before we started turning all this into a real family. Hell—you already knew by first time I told you I loved you, didn’t you?” As the pitch of her voice rose  
the depths of his shame sank deeper and deeper.

“I did,” he murmured.

She shook her head and few tears dashed down her cheeks. “I can’t deal with that right now, Killian. I just can’t. It’s too much.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “Maybe, someday, we’ll have a chance to try to work through this. But I can’t right now. Please—just let me go.”

It was no use. He dropped his arm and stepped aside. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you be.”

He watched as she got in her car. She gave him one last look before driving away.

He stood there for several minutes after she left, feeling as if he couldn’t get his feet to carry him away.

“Dad?”

Killian looked up to see Bae walking toward him from the apartment. Killian sighed and forced a smile as he looked at son.

Bae shook his head. “This is all my fault. You and Emma belong together, and if I’d never run off in the first place you would’ve found a way to make things work. I should have been braver. Maybe I really am just a coward like my real father.”

“No. Never think that, Bae.” Killian grasped his son’s shoulder. “You are the kind of man you want to be. You chose to stay with Becky. You chose to make a family. And you’re choosing to face your father so that you can help your old friends. There’s nothing cowardly about that.”

“I just wish there was something more I could do to help.”

Killian looked down. “She needs time. And I wouldn’t blame her if she never forgives me.”

Bae met his gaze with a determined look. “We’ll find a way to make things right. I promise.”

Killian wished he could be so optimistic.

Later that evening August arrived. He gave Killian a rueful smile as he set his bag down inside the door. “It’s seems we’ve been banished. The ladies are determined to take on this curse without us.”

“Yes. They are. And I don’t know what to do about it that won’t alienate them even more. I think for now it’s best to give them some space.”

August hobbled over the couch and sat down. “Okay. We’ll give them some space. But we can’t let them go to Maine without backup. We’re a family—a bizarre, slightly dysfunctional family—but still a family. We stand by each other, and we make amends when we screw up. That’s how it works.”

“Yes. It is.” Killian couldn’t agree more.

~

Emma frowned. She sat at Ingrid’s kitchen table staring at the unlit pillar candle in front of her. Nothing was happening. “Some tips might be helpful,” she grumbled.

“Okay. I should have guessed that you wouldn’t just spontaneously figure it out,” replied Ingrid. She sat across from Emma. She tapped the table with her finger a few times and then nodded. “Okay. No one ever taught me magic—I had to figure it out on my own—so this is as new to me as it is to you. But here’s the concept that helped me the most once I figured it out: magic relies on intent and focus.”

“Come again?” Emma raised her eyebrows.

“Intent first,” said Ingrid nodding at the candle. “You want fire. That’s your intent. Then comes the focus. If you just burst out with intent alone you could light my drapes on fire by mistake. You have to be focused. Your intent is fire, your focus is this candlewick. So formulate your intent, focus your mind, and will it to happen.”

That seemed way too easy. “What, no spells or hand gestures or potions? I just will it to happen?”

Ingrid shrugged. “Maybe if I’d had a teacher they would have told me otherwise, but from what I understand spells and gestures just clarify your intent and magnify your focus, but in the end it still comes back to you pushing your will out at the object of your focus with your intent to guide it. And potions are just a way to pour your intent and focus into something that can be bottled up and saved for later.”

Emma took a deep breath. “Okay. Here goes nothing.” She imagined a candle flame burning strong and bright, focused her eyes on the wick in front of her, and willed it to burn.

Nothing happened. Not even a single spark or a wisp of smoke. She shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“And that attitude right there,” said Ingrid, wagging a finger at her, “is exactly why it isn’t working. You have to believe it. Look back on all the times you think you worked magic in the past, and try to grab hold of that impulsive, emotional belief that made it possible. Then try again.”

Emma sighed. This was going to be a very long week.

~

Killian kept going to work. It helped pass the time and distracted him from the pain and frustration. He wasn’t entirely sure what August did every day, but each evening when Killian got home August was there, waiting.

Gradually, over the course of a few days, Killian began to open up to August. He shared the story of his past—what turned him pirate, how he loved and lost, and ultimately how becoming Bae’s father had saved him and put him on the path to redemption.

“I thought Emma was my happy ending—that I’d earned it after working all these years to care for Bae and turn both our lives around,” he confessed on the fifth night after a few shots of rum.

“And I thought Ingrid was mine,” August replied, staring at the lights reflecting off of his glass. He gulped down his shot and sighed. “I was a punk kid with a growing criminal history, just like your Bae, when I stumbled across Ingrid and Emma. Even though she’d only been a little baby when I left her, I still recognized Emma immediately. And I thought I’d found my chance to make things right—to make amends for abandoning her. Ingrid saw through me immediately and pried the truth out of me in less than a day. But instead of sending me packing she let me stick around. I was just a twenty-two year old idiot, and she was a grown woman with a job and a stable life and an adopted kid. It still blows my mind that she let me stay—and that she fell for me at the same time that I fell for her. But I’ve figured out by now that happy endings don’t come that easily. They aren’t handed to you just for turning your life around. You have to work for them. You have to fight for them every single day, or they might slip through your fingers when you least expect it.”

Killian nodded slowly, a half-formed plan swirling in his mind. “Aye. A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.” He took a deep breath. “We’ve waited long enough, mate. Given them their space. But it’s time. We need to put our heads together and find a way to make ourselves so invaluable to the cause of breaking this bloody curse that they can’t say no when we offer our help.”

August grinned. “I like the way you think.”

Killian smiled back and nodded. “You go start a pot of coffee—make it strong. I’ll call Bae and ask him up to join us. He has every right to help break his own father’s curse.”

Soon enough Bae was with them and before the night was over they knew exactly what they had to do.

~

In the past six days Emma had managed to make the lights flicker three times. A strange breeze had rushed through the apartment in such a way that it maybe possibly could have been her magic. And one time the eggs Ingrid had been scrambling got scorched and stuck to the pan right when Emma was trying to do her magic—but Ingrid hadn’t been watching the eggs very closely, so that one might have been coincidence.

The one thing she most definitely hadn’t managed was to light that damn candle.

She was back at it, sitting at the table and staring at the thing (she now hated that candle more than she’d ever hated any piece of home décor) when there was a knock on the door.

She looked over as Ingrid answered, and caught her breath when she heard August’s voice. “I know she didn’t want us to intrude, but we just need a few minutes. We have a few things to say that she might find interesting.”

Emma’s chest got tight. She stood and paced into the living room where she could look right at the door. Just as she’s expected Killian stood beside August. But she was a bit surprised that Bae had joined them. So maybe this wasn’t a poorly conceived romantic gesture. She hoped.

Ingrid looked over her shoulder at Emma, a question in her eyes.

Emma nodded. “Let them come in.” At the very least they’d give her a break from that fucking candle.

She remained standing, her arms folded over her chest, as the men filed into the room. “Well?”

They all shuffled a little and Killian and Bae both looked at August. Apparently he was the chosen spokesperson.

“Look, Emma,” he said, “I know you didn’t want us to be a part of this, but we’re here to offer our assistance and service anyway. We don’t expect forgiveness or friendship right now, but we can help you with this quest. You’ll need more than magic to be safe and ready for this.”

Emma clenched her teeth. She’d thought the same thing many times over the past few days, but she’d been loath to admit it. Even now she still wasn’t ready to face Killian. She tried to keep her eyes on August, instead. “So what is it that you think I’ll need?”

August held up a sketchbook. “My memory is pretty sharp, but I only remember your parents from the point of view of a little boy. Even so, I tried my best to sketch out their faces, and the faces of a few of the other key players in this curse—the evil Queen Regina, a few of the dwarves, and my father. Bae here sketched out his birth father, Rumplestiltskin. I also wrote out a detailed description in case my pictures aren’t enough. They might have aged twenty-eight years since then, but knowing Queen Regina she did something to preserve them all. I don’t expect that she would have wanted to grow old quite yet. And Rumplestiltskin is basically immortal, so he won’t have changed.”

Emma swallowed hard. She’d tried not to think about her birth parents—who they were and what might be happening to them. But now, as August spoke, she realized that finding them might be the key to breaking this curse and letting her come home. She took the book from him. “Thank you. I’m sure this will be very helpful.”

“It’ll be even more helpful if you let him go with you,” said Bae. “He’ll be able to recognize them in person way better than you could with sketches and descriptions. He’s from that world and he knows those people. You should take him.”

“I…” Emma hesitated. Killian lingered behind the other two, not speaking. But he wasn’t the one she needed to focus on right now.

“You should listen to me, Emma,” said Bae. “I’m the one who owes you the biggest apology. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t panicked and run off like a coward when Dad told me about the curse and everything, then they all would have told you the truth months ago. I was the one who scared them into silence. If you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me.”

The fire in Bae’s eyes took her aback. She’d rarely seen him look so passionate about anything. Killian had been careful not to lay the blame for his choices on Bae; he’d taken all the blame on his own shoulders. And now Bae seemed intent on doing the same thing. They both shared the same stubborn sense of honor. Her eyes darted to Killian. He was watching her with a careful, guarded expression.

Her heart skipped a beat and she looked away. “Maybe you’re right. About taking August, I mean.”

“And there’s more we can do for you, Emma,” August said. “Bae here knows the mind of his father better than anyone else, and Killian has some pretty keen insights into the Dark One’s motives and methods as well. You should talk to them. By coming to understand the Dark One better you’ll be better prepared to face whatever is inside that bubble created by his curse.”

Another excellent point—one that she’d been too blinded by pain to think of herself. Damn it—she hadn’t been ready to forgive them. Any of them. Yet here they were, making her question why she was so angry in the first place.

Had she already forgiven Ingrid? She wasn’t sure. But after spending most of a week with her the worst of the bite had left her pain and anger. Maybe the same would hold true is she let him—them—back into her life.

“And my dad is the best swordsman in any realm,” added Bae. “You should let him give you some lessons, in case you have to wield a blade once you’ve crossed into the bubble.”

Her eyes widened and she met Killian’s gaze for the first time. “You think I might need to know how use a sword? Seriously?”

“These are fairytales we’re talking about, love,” he said in a soft but firm voice. “You need to be prepared for a fairytale adventure. Which means magic—” he inclined his head toward Ingrid, “lore—” he indicated August and Bae, “and swordsmanship.” He nodded in imitation of a bow.

God, it stirred up so many feelings in her to see him again—to hear his voice.

“Their offer is worth considering,” said Ingrid, startling Emma out of her thoughts. “I haven’t proven to be the best magic teacher, so you’re going to need more. They can help prepare you for this in ways I never could have.”

Ingrid was right. They all were. Emma had just been too angry and hurt and stubborn to see it. A part of her still wanted to cling to that anger—they deserved it after hiding this from her for so long! But the rest of her was ready to let it go and move on. She needed them. She needed her family.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Okay. Okay. We’ll do this together.”

August and Bae grinned openly, but it was Killian’s slight, hopeful half-smile that sent tingles up and down her spine.

They talked for a few minutes to work out their new plans. Emma and Bae would call in sick tomorrow so they could spend most of the day talking about his birth father, and that evening August would go through the sketchbook with her to tell her everything he could about her parents and her enemies. The day after she would work with Ingrid some more and then have a sword fighting lesson from Killian. Her heart skipped a beat when she met his eyes after settling on that item in the schedule. They decided to improvise for the next few days after that, and then they’d have to plan out the actual trip to Maine.

There were only seven more days until her birthday. Seven more days to learn everything she needed to know to be ready (as if she could ever be truly ready) to face whatever lay inside that bubble.

After that the men took their leave. As they headed out Emma reached out to rest her fingers on Killian’s arm. “Hey.”

He stopped and looked at her, once more wearing that half-smile that melted her heart. “Yes?”

“I…” There was so much to say and so much to work through, but now wasn’t the time or place. “Just… thank you.” 

His smile spread a touch wider and he nodded. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you day after tomorrow.”

She nodded back. “See you then.”

She watched him walk out, and lingered as Ingrid shut the door behind him.

“You were right to accept their help, Emma,” she said softly. “I’m doing what I can, but it’s not enough. You need them. You need your whole family right now.”

Emma sucked on her bottom lip a moment. “Yeah. I do.”

She sank back down into her chair at the kitchen table, the horrible candle still in front of her.

Oh, Killian. She’d wanted so much to feel his arms around her. She just wanted him back—she wanted everything that they had back. She wanted that life and that future that she’d been so eager for. Damn him for lying to her. Damn him for letting her believe she could have that future when he knew about the curse hanging over her head. Damn them all!

Anger and frustration rose in her chest and she glared at the candle, directing all of that anger right at it.

The wick burst into flame. And so did all the paper napkins in the napkin holder at the other end of the table.

Emma yelped and leapt to her feet. Ingrid dashed to the kitchen and quickly filled a pitcher with water which she used to hastily douse the napkins before the fire could spread.

Emma stood, her chest heaving, and stared at the still-burning candle and the puddle of ashy water spreading on the table around it. “Wow.”

Ingrid burst into laughter. “Wow indeed. Now let’s get this mess cleaned up and see if you can do it again!”

Emma took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. Wow.”

There was no turning back now—no claiming she didn’t believe. This was real. As real as anything in her life had ever been. It was time to press forward.

~

Killian talked to both Bae and August after their day with Emma. They reported she’d finally made a breakthrough with her magic, and she’d seemed willing and eager to listen and learn, though she was no less tense.

The next day he felt nervous and jumpy all day at work. Bae had urged him to take a day off, but he needed the distraction. That evening Bae was going to let them into one of the strip-mall stores he’d been working construction on. It was the only large space they knew would be empty where they could practice.

Killian and Bae arrived first and after Bae let him in and verified that all the other workers were gone for the night, Killian sent Bae away. He needed to do this alone.

Ten minutes later he heard a faint knocking on the glass door that was obscured by hanging plastic sheets. He pulled the sheet aside and ushered Emma inside.

She wore her hair back in a ponytail and was dressed in her exercise clothes. She smiled nervously and gestured at the ensemble. “I figured this would be kind of like a workout, so I dressed for one.”

“You look… perfect,” he replied.

She seemed to be fumbling for words, so he decided to spare her the awkward moment. “Shall we begin?” He strode over the wall where he’d leaned two blades against the wall.

Emma blinked in surprise. “You have real swords? Where have you been hiding them all this time?”

He huffed. “I bought them yesterday. There were five shops in the greater Boston area that carried medieval weaponry. Most of what they sell is purely decorative—I had to pay a small fortune for a pair of battle-ready blades, and even so the balance feels a bit off.” He lifted one of the blades and twirled it in his hand, frowning at the way it handled. He wasn’t _that_ out of practice. It had to be the sword. He turned it and held out the hilt to Emma.

She stared at him with wide eyes. “God—you really were a pirate, weren’t you?”

He couldn’t help but smile. “The best to ever sail the realms. Go on—take it.”

She squeezed her lips together and gingerly took the blade from his hand. Her arm dipped a little with the weight, but then she steadied her arm and lifted the blade a little higher to study the length of it with her eyes.

“Not bad,” he said. “But your grip’s a bit off. Here, let me…” He stepped behind her and wrapped his arm around her to adjust her hand. “There. Do you feel it?”

“Yeah,” she replied.

He could feel it too—tingles ran through his whole body as she brushed against him. But now wasn’t the time to try to force affections on her that she wasn’t ready for. He needed to keep tonight all-business, or he’d risk alienating her even more.

After giving her a few more tips on stance and grip he led her through a series of exercises to get her familiar with the feel of a blade in her hand, demonstrating with his own sword. Emma kept the talk to business just as he did, so he knew he’d made the right choice. 

After about an hour he decided she was ready to start trading blows. He jabbed a nerf ball onto the tips of both swords (and secretly delighted at Emma’s resulting laughter) and then led her through some light sparring. Her inexperience was obvious, but she had a good hand for the blade and a good eye for when and where to strike next. After about fifteen minutes Killian notice sweat on her forehead and called for a break.

They set down their blades and he tossed her a bottle of water. “Well done, Emma. I dare say you’re a natural.”

She smiled and cracked open the cap to her bottle. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls.”

He held her gaze. “Only to you.”

Emma’s silence after his words made him fear that his mild flirtation had crossed a line. He looked away and took a few gulps of his own water.

“Killian?” she said softly.

He turned his head to meet her gaze, his heart in his throat. “Yes?”

“I’ve missed you.”

He clutched his bottle as if it were a lifeline. He needed to tread carefully now. “I’ve missed you, too.”

She took a deep breath through her nose and squeezed her lips together. After a moment she said, “I’ve been trying to figure out why it’s harder for me to forgive you than it has been to forgive Ingrid.”

“I know why,” he replied without hesitation.

She raised her eyebrows. “You do?”

He nodded. He knew her so well—of course he understood why she was struggling to forgive him. “Ingrid is the guardian of your past—but I was supposed to be the keeper of your future. You can’t forgive me because I let you believe our future together could be a happy, peaceful one, when I knew all the while that this curse was hanging over your head and would likely sweep you away. I let you hope for something that I knew could never be. That was a cruel and selfish thing for me to do, and that’s why you can’t forgive me. You’re right not to.”

Her eyes were wide. “You… must have thought about this a lot.”

“Hardly an hour has passed when I don’t think about it.” He shook his head and looked down at the bare concrete floor. “I’ll understand if you never want to be in a relationship with me again. But I’ll tell you this—I failed you once, and I don’t intend to fail you again. Whatever you need from me—whatever help I can offer you as you face this curse and the enemies that lie in wait—I’ll be there. No matter what it costs me.”

Her expression softened. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

He answered with a nod, not trusting himself to speak.

“I don’t know what I want for us,” she said. “I really don’t. I need to focus on this whole curse thing. I don’t have time to sort things out. But I do know that I’m glad you’re with me on this.”

His heart throbbed with all the unspoken words he had to trap inside. Instead he simply said, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

~

As the next few days passed for Emma it became both easier and more confusing to spend time with Killian.

In group settings she found herself falling into the same conversational rhythms with him that they’d always had, but when they were alone together everything seemed to be either all-business or stilted and loaded with hidden meaning. There was no in between.

There were moments when she was certain she’d forgiven him completely, but then she’d remember why she’d only had two weeks to prepare for the biggest challenge of her life rather than nine months, and her anger would flare up again. But in the quiet of the night she’d lie awake on Ingrid’s guest bed wondering if she’d been the one in Killian’s circumstances, might she have made the same choices that he had?

As a group the entire family decided to travel to Maine together on the day before her birthday, and they made reservations for a hotel a half-hour drive from the location of the magic bubble. As they all prepared to go their separate ways after the meeting, Becky pulled Emma aside.

“Hey—I know this isn’t really my place, but I just hate to see what you and Killian are going through. I totally get why you’re mad at him. I mean I was furious and confused and everything in between when we first found out about everything. But at the end of it all I realized that Bae only hid these things from me because he really thought we could have a normal life together and he didn’t want to ruin it. He did it because he loves me. And I know Killian felt exactly the same way. He didn’t hide things from you because he wanted to hold something over you or manipulate you. He did it because he really just wanted a normal future with you. And I know you felt the same way about him and I know both your hearts are breaking every time you’re apart. I’m sorry if this upsets or offends you—really. But just… you should think about trying again. I don’t think you’ll regret it if you do.” Becky’s gaze was earnest and as serious as Emma had ever seen.

“Thank you. It’s okay, I’m not offended. There’s just so much on my shoulders right now. I haven’t really had time to work through all this relationship stuff yet.” Emma sighed. She must really look pathetic if a barely-twenty-year-old thought she needed love advice.

“Well, maybe that weight on your shoulders wouldn’t feel so heavy if you’d let Killian carry some of it for you,” replied Becky matter-of-factly. “Think about it.” She patted Emma’s arm and then walked with her now-obvious pregnant waddle back to Bae.

Emma’s heart felt frozen in her chest. It couldn’t really be that easy, could it?

She watched Killian leave the apartment with August, and immediately felt herself becoming heavier. Maybe Becky was right. Killian had already promised to be there for her no matter what, and she had every reason to believe him.

The next day as they piled into their various cars to start the convoy to Maine, Emma was surprised when August insisted on riding with her and everyone else ended up in the other two cars. For the first hour they were mostly quiet, with only occasional trivial chatting. But during the second hour things changed.

“Emma—there’s something very important that I need to talk to you about,” said August.

She gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “Oh? Some other super important secret about my past that you need to share with me?”

August shook his head. “Nope. Something about the future. Your future.”

“What about it?” A knot twisted in the pit of her stomach as she braced herself for a lecture on how she could never really go back home after this. How her life was going change permanently, and she needed to prepare herself for that.

“I don’t want you to run away from true love,” he said.

She blinked in astonishment. “What?”

“Ingrid and I were talking about getting married a little after you graduated from High School. Did you know that?” He said, dodging her question.

“I… No. I thought you guys didn’t believe in marriage, or something.” Emma didn’t quite know what to think about this information.

“Oh, we do.” He rubbed his afflicted leg as he spoke, wincing. “I bought a ring and everything. I still have it.”

Emma could only stare out the windshield and shake her head. “What happened?”

“You, Emma. Now don’t think I’m blaming you for our relationship troubles. I don’t. I blame myself. I wanted to tell you the truth about who you are before making my situation with Ingrid more permanent. I thought you were old enough to handle it without freaking too much, and that eventually you’d accept it and forgive us. But Ingrid absolutely refused. And the more I pushed, the more she pushed back. Eventually I got so angry at her that I couldn’t believe I’d ever wanted to marry her, and I left.” 

Emma remembered that first time he’d broken up with Ingrid. He’d told her it wasn’t her fault and he would always be her friend, and then he drove off on his motorcycle and didn’t come back for eight months. At the time Emma was fighting with Ingrid nearly every day, and she delighted in the occasional phone calls, emails or postcards that she’d get from August. He’d felt like the family she wanted, while Ingrid had been the family she was stuck with.

Now she understood things a little better.

He took a deep breath. “I kept coming back because I couldn’t stop loving her. And I kept leaving because I couldn’t get her to change her mind. But at least she had principles and stuck to them, instead of being a coward and a hypocrite like me.”

“What do you mean?”

He massaged his leg again. “I was so angry at her for so many years when I knew that you’d eventually believe us and forgive us after we told you the truth. We had the real thing—the kind of true love they write about in storybooks. But I threw it away because of my stubborn anger. And I blamed her and her choices every single time. It wasn’t until this last time that I took a good look at myself. It took my foot slowly and painfully turning to wood for me to realize that I was just as much at fault as she was. I could have stayed. I could have married her, in spite of our arguments, and we could have been the kind of family I always dreamed of. Maybe if I had she wouldn’t have been so afraid of telling you the truth. Maybe she would have had more faith in the power of love and family. Or I could have forced things by telling you the truth myself and forcing her to deal with the fallout. She would have been pissed as hell with me for a long time, but in the end I still think you would have believed us and forgiven us, and when you did she would have forgiven me, too.” He breathed a heavy, exhausted sigh.

After a few moments of silence Emma replied, “You’re right. It might have taken longer, but eventually I would have believed you. And I would have forgiven you.”

August nodded. “Like I said—I was a coward and a hypocrite, and all of us suffered as a consequence.” He rubbed his face. “I’m ashamed of my choices Emma, but I needed to tell you. Not just to ease my conscience. I don’t want you to make the same mistake that I did. Don’t run away from true love because you can’t learn to forgive. Your anger won’t do anything but tear both of you down. But your forgiveness—well, that might be enough to work miracles. The power of true love is stronger than any other magic, no matter what realm you find it in. Don’t run away from that, Emma.”

Emma squeezed the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it echoing inside her head.

Was that what she’d been doing for the past two weeks? Running away from true love?

It had felt like true love. Hell—it still did. Maybe August was right. Maybe she needed to have a little more faith. As soon as Killian had realized the depth of his mistake, he’d worked to fix it, no matter the consequences to himself. He had faith that she would do what needed to be done, in spite of the mistakes of her family. Maybe it was time to put in a little faith in him, too.

“I need to think for a little while,” she murmured.

August nodded. “Okay.”

~

The little convoy stopped just after dark to pick up food at a fast food restaurant. As they ate, Killian felt Emma’s eyes on him, but every time he looked her way she glanced away quickly, as if she didn’t want him to know she was watching him.

Was she questioning why she let him come along? Or was it something else? He didn’t want to get his hopes up.

After another hour of driving they finally arrived at their motel. They’d reserved three rooms for the next three days, so some of them could stay behind in reserve after Emma crossed into the bubble.

After they checked in Killian grabbed his bag and started to follow August, assuming that Emma would room with Ingrid.

“Killian.” 

He stopped short and turned, surprised to hear Emma called his name. She held up her key card and gestured with a nod of her head. “Come on. Our room is this way.”

His heart flew into his chest. He nodded dumbly and turned to follow her up the stairs to the second level, his head foggy with the sound of the ocean. He couldn’t think or formulate words—he could only follow.

Emma opened the door and he followed her inside, depositing his bag on one of the two queen beds. He still hadn’t found his words, so he sat on the bed beside his bag and waited.

After Emma stowed her own bag in the closet area she strode over to him and sat just opposite him on the other bed. The beds were close enough that their knees almost touched. She looked just as nervous as he felt.

“So,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “Here we are.”

“Yep.” She nodded. “Here we are.”

Silence fell for another few moments, and then Emma spoke. “I’m tired of being angry. I’m tired of being weighed down by this. And I’m tired of being alone.” She paused and straightened her back, as if bracing for a blow. “I need you to promise to never hide things from me again, even if you think something might hurt me.”

“I swear on my heart and soul that I will never hide anything from you again,” he said, his heart pounding as if he’d been running a race.

“Okay,” she said quietly. She hesitated again, and then added, “I want you to go with me tomorrow. I want to do this together. Can you do that for me?” The uncertainty in her plea nearly broke his heart all over again.

His confidence growing, he moved, shifting beds to sit beside her, and took her hand in his. He held her gaze as he replied, “I’ll be by your side tomorrow and every step of the way for the rest of our lives, if you’ll have me.”

Her answering smile was all he needed. He leaned in and kissed her.

It was like kissing her for the first time all over again—the same nervousness, but also the same heat and excitement. And when her arms wrapped around him he felt like he was finally coming home.

~

“Okay, this is it,” said August from the backseat, where he sat watching his GPS readings. 

Emma stepped on the brake and put the car in park. The stretch of road ahead of her looked identical to dozens of other empty stretches they’d travelled during their time in Maine. “You’re sure?”

“Positive. About twenty feet ahead is where the bubble starts. Every time I’ve tried to cross it before, the magic instantly lifts me twenty-five miles down the coast within a blink of an eye. But I have feeling today will be different.”

“Because today is the Savior’s birthday,” said Killian, wearing a teasing smile in the seat beside her.

“Stop calling me that,” she groaned. But inside she was happier than she’d been since the night she first learned of her destiny. Last night alone with Killian had done wonders for her mood.

This morning they’d left Ingrid to watch over Bae and Becky. They’d call them in as backup if they needed it, but Emma hoped it wouldn’t come to that. She wanted to keep Bae away from his father as long as possible—and she’d never have brought Becky along at all if the young lovers hadn’t insisted on it.

She took a deep breath and shifted the car back into drive. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”

She drove forward slowly, at little more than ten miles an hour, and blinked in astonishment when a sign suddenly sprang into view where no sign had been before. She stepped on the break again. “It looks like a town name—Storybrooke.” She shook her head. “Great. The evil queen is fond of puns.”

“Let’s go see if this really is a town,” said August. “It would make sense, given the setting.”

Emma nodded and drove on. Sure enough she soon pulled into the outskirts of a small town, and before long she was driving down a classic small-town main street, complete with various townsfolk ambling along the sidewalks. “I’m going to pull over,” she said. “This is as good a place as any to start looking around.”

After she parked in front of a hardware store, all three of them stepped out. August was now using a cane to walk, but that was the closest thing they had a weapon. Killian’s sharp pirate hook was stowed in the glove box, and her fingers itched to grab one of the guns or swords that they had in the trunk. But she didn’t want to cause a fuss if there was a chance at blending in.

A casual glance around showed fewer of the tourist-oriented knick-knack stores than she’d seen in other nearby towns, but that in and of itself was nothing remarkable. She strode along the sidewalk, scoping out the scene like she would when walking her beat, and both men fell in behind her.

She frowned. This seemed like a perfectly ordinary, if somewhat isolated, small town. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. What if all the faith and belief she’d built up over the past two weeks was false, and this was all just a huge trick after all?

Then, without warning, an early-eighties model police cruiser pulled up alongside them and parked. A tall, lanky, handsome officer stepped out and turned to face them. A quick glance at his badge told Emma that he was the sheriff.

“Hello,” he said. “New in town?”

Emma nodded. “Yes, we just got here. Thought we’d take a walk and check out what your town has to offer.”

“Hmm,” replied the sheriff. He folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes. “We don’t often get visitors in town. We’re a bit off the beaten path.”

“That’s what we like about it,” replied Emma. Improvising a cover story on the spot, she added, “My, uh, fiancé and I,” she gripped Killian’s arm and pulled him up beside her, “live in Boston, but we’re thinking about starting a family and we’d love to do it in a small town like this. We’ve been checking out towns up and down the Maine coast all week.”

“Hmm,” said the sheriff again. “Boston, eh? What type of work do you do in Boston?” 

Emma could swear the man’s accent sounded Irish. What the hell was an Irishman doing as sheriff of an isolated Maine town?

Before she could answer, Killian spoke up. “Myself I manage a shop. But the lady here is actually in law enforcement.”

“Really?” His eyes went wide, he dropped his defensive stance, and a smile spread on his face.

Emma smiled back. “Yeah. Boston PD.”

“Well that’s excellent!” said the sheriff. “I’ve been petitioning the City Council to approve the budget for me to hire on a few more officers, and I’m sure the task would be a hell of a lot easier if they knew I’d be able to hire an experienced big-city officer. Here—let me get you a card.” He turned and reached back into his car to pull a business card from his glove box. Emma raised her eyebrows and met Killian’s equally suspicious gaze.

The sheriff handed her the card with a smile. “I’m Graham—Sheriff Graham Humbert. And I didn’t get your names?”

Emma cleared her throat. She was inclined to be suspicious of the man, but she might as well give her real name. “I’m Emma. Emma Swan. And this is my fiancé, Killian Jones, and my brother, August.”

“Good to meet you all,” he said, shaking all their hands in turn. “Well, welcome to Storybrooke. And if you do take a liking to it, give me a call. I can show you around the station. Maybe even drive you around town a bit. And if I can put in a good word for the town—the schools here are excellent, and if you decide this might be the place for you, as long as your credentials check out I can almost guarantee you a good job.”

A bit sudden for a job offer, Emma thought. It set her on edge, but small town people were different. She had to remember that. “Thanks so much. I might take you up on that offer to see the station,” she replied.

“Excellent. I look forward to it. And when you all get ready for lunch, I recommend Granny’s Diner.” He pointed and gave them some simple directions.

After he drove off Emma exchanged glances with Killian and August. “So—is he ringing any bells?”

August shook his head. “I’m afraid not. But I am starting to guess what this curse might have done to the people here.”

“What, made them all think they’re small-town rubes?” Emma asked.

He nodded. “That very well may be the case.”

She’d always thought the idea of being the “savior” for a cursed kingdom was bizarre, but if being stuck in small-town America was the only curse, what was the point? How much more bizarre could this get?

They kept walking until Killian gripped her arm and August froze in his tracks. Emma stopped and followed their gaze. A small, well-dressed man with shoulder-length hair and a cane had just stepped out of a shop labeled, “Mr. Gold, Pawnbroker.”

Killian’s grip tightened as the man strode away from the shop, leaning on his cane and walking with a clear limp. Once the man was well out of earshot, Killian’s grip relaxed slightly. “That was him. The crocodile.”

“Rumplestiltskin,” August added in a whisper.

“That was Bae’s father?” Emma asked in a low tone. “But what about the frizzy hair and the lizard skin?”

“Given the apparent parameters of the curse, he’d hardly have been allowed to carry on with particular guise,” said Killian, his voice nearly a snarl. “But I got a good look at the man before he ever became the Dark One. That is most definitely him.”

Emma took a deep breath. “Okay. Well. We’ll have to be on our guard. Maybe he remembers you, maybe he doesn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that we need to track down my parents. Come on.”

Once again the men fell in behind her. And just a minute later August once more froze, a look of shock on his face. He stared at an older man coming down a ladder from fixing a store awning just ahead of them. Once down the gray-haired and bearded man stooped to put a few tools in toolbox, and then lifted the whole box and headed their way. August smiled at the man, and Emma added her own smile. He nodded at them as he passed, but said nothing, instead heading to a nearby truck to stow his tools. A red-haired man walking a Dalmatian called out the name, “Marco!” and crossed the street to join the old handyman.

Emma could see in August’s eyes how rattled he was, so she gripped his arm and urged him onward until they were well away from the old man. “Who was that, August?”

He stopped walking and leaned heavy on his cane. “That was my papa.” His voice was thick with emotion. “He hasn’t aged a day. He looks just the same. He looked right at me, but there was nothing there. No sign that I looked anything like the son he lost all those years ago. He isn’t even using his real name.” August shook his head.

Emma rubbed his back, hoping to calm him.

“That settles it then,” Killian said in a soft voice. “Time is most definitely frozen here, and none of these people remember their true lives. That’s the curse. To live out stifled half-lives that stretch on for an eternity with no sense of meaning or growth. They may even live out the same week or even the same day over and over again without realizing it.”

“We have to fix this,” said August, a new fire in his eyes. “We have to save them, Emma.”

She took a deep breath. If the same thing had happened to Ingrid and August, or anyone else she cared about, she would feel exactly the same way. “You’re right. We’re going to find my parents, and we’re going to break this curse. The sooner the better.”

~

In the next half hour August managed to identify four of the seven dwarves, six members of Snow White’s guard, one fairy, and, when they followed the Sheriff’s advice to try Granny’s Diner for lunch, Red Riding Hood and her grandmother.

Before Killian’s time in this realm without magic none of these people would have turned his head, but now, knowing the cultural weight of the stories and legends surrounding their personas, he could see why Emma looked increasingly overwhelmed with every passing minute. After they slid into their booth at the diner he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You holding up alright, love?”

She forced a smile. “Yeah. I guess. I think the full reality of the world I came from is finally sinking in. It’s kind of a lot.”

“You’re doing fine,” August reassured her from across the table. “And don’t worry—I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before we find your parents.”

They hadn’t seen the crocodile again, thank God. The sight of the man had rattled Killian far more than he expected. After all these years his old enemy was nearby, and, if the rest of the town was any indication, he was also without any magical defense. Killian could end Bae’s worry and find his own revenge with the simple pull of a trigger or thrust of a blade. It would be so simple.

He clenched his jaw. It was wrong of him to entertain such thoughts. He needed to focus on the task at hand—finding Emma’s parents.

They ordered some lunch from the leggy young woman who August insisted was Red Riding Hood (though not so little), and waited. Some other diners had taken the booth beside them, stifling their free conversation.

They ate their meals quickly. Just as they were finishing, August, who sat facing the front door of the diner, stiffened, his eyes locked on whomever had just entered, before darting back to Emma with a look of warning.

A moment later a professionally dressed woman with dark, carefully styled hair, strode up to their table. A slightly menacing smile was pasted on her face. “You must be the visitors that Sheriff Humbert was telling me about. He was rather excited about the possibility of hiring a Boston police officer to join his force.” She directed her gaze at Emma, and Killian felt his shoulders tensing. He’d seen August’s sketches, and though the drawing hadn’t been an exact likeness, it had been close enough. “Miss Swan, was it?” The woman said.

Emma had seen the same sketches that he had. Surely she knew.

Emma held out her hand to shake with the woman. “Yes. And you are?”

“I’m Mayor Regina Mills. So you see, I have a vested interest in the woman who might be patrolling my city’s streets in a few months’ time.”

“Of course,” replied Emma. “I’m pleased to meet you. You have a lovely town, here.”

“I’ve always thought so,” replied Regina. “I must warn you, though, not to get your hopes too high about that job coming through anytime soon. Our city council has been in a ridiculous gridlock over budget items lately. Sheriff Humbert believes that some serious interest from an experienced police officer might help grease the wheels of bureaucracy, but I’m afraid I’m less optimistic. I just wanted to warn you not to get too attached.” The woman’s voice dripped with venom.

“Well, I think Emma here will have her pick of jobs along the Maine coast once she starts applying,” said Killian, wrapping his arm over Emma’s shoulder and meeting Regina’s eyes with his own steely gaze. “She’d one of the brightest officers in her district, and any town will be lucky to have her. Besides, we haven’t settled on our first picks yet. But thanks to you our decision just got easier. Thank you, Madam Mayor.”

Regina’s smile faded and she met them all with thin-lipped scorn. “Enjoy your time in Storybrooke,” she said, before spinning and heading back out the front door.

“You know who she is?” August murmured.

“Yep,” Emma replied. “Real piece of work, too.”

“I can virtually guarantee that her memories of the old life are completely intact,” added Killian. “But I strongly suspect that her magic is non-existent. Those were the words of a woman trying scare her enemy away before they realize that she has no advantage over them.”

August nodded slowly. “I agree. But we should still be cautious. She doesn’t need magic to cause problems.”

They left diner feeling more sober, and more eager to complete their task, than ever before.

~

It was nearly one-thirty in the afternoon, and Emma was beginning to feel like wandering the streets was a waste of time. They needed a better plan. She was about to say as much when they strolled past the elementary school grounds.

Suddenly she heard one of the children out at recesses yell, “It’s you! You came! You’re here!”

Seconds later a small, dark-haired boy with glasses too large for his face and a scattering of freckles below his blue eyes barreled out of the schoolyard gate and skidded to a halt right in front of her. “It’s you,” he panted, staring up at her with adoring eyes.

August and Killian moved to either side of her, ready to spring if the boy proved to be a threat. Silly and overprotective of them. The kid looked like he weighed barely fifty pounds, and from the way he was panting she wouldn’t be surprised if he was asthmatic. “I’m me?” she said, raising her eyebrows.

He grinned. “You’re Princess Emma! I knew you would come eventually—the prophecy said you would. I just didn’t think it would happen so soon. I only found out about you three weeks ago. I thought I’d have to wait months and months. But you’re here!”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “What the hell?”

August seemed braced to ask more questions, but before he had the chance a woman called, “Henry! Henry—you know you’re not supposed to leave school grounds!”

She jogged out the gate after the boy, and rested her hands on his shoulders. “I don’t want to have to call your mother. Now go back inside.”

Henry nodded, still grinning. “Yes, Miss Blanchard. You really need to talk to Emma. I think you’ll like her.” With that parting shot he headed back to the schoolyard, glancing back over his shoulder as he walked, a bright grin still on his face.

The teacher—Miss Blanchard—looked at Emma and smiled. Emma’s breath caught in her throat. It couldn’t be—could it?

“I’m sorry about Henry,” she said. “He’s a sweet and imaginative boy, but sometimes too precocious for his own good. I hope he didn’t disturb you.”

“Not at all,” replied Emma, her mind still reeling. She held out her hand. “I’m Emma Swan.”

“Mary Margaret Blanchard,” the teacher replied, shaking Emma’s hand. “I’m Henry’s teacher.”

“Yeah…” Emma swallowed her nerves. “My, uh, fiancé and I are just here checking out the town. We’re thinking of settling down in a small town along the Maine coast, and right now we’re exploring Storybrooke as one of the possibilities. How do you like living here?”

Mary Margaret’s smile was sweet and full of sunshine. “Oh, it’s a lovely place to live. I’ve been here my whole life, and it’s full of wonderful people. So quiet and peaceful. A perfect place to raise a family. And I know I’m a bit biased, but the schools are top notch.”

“So I’ve heard.” Emma smiled in growing wonder at the woman in front of her.

“Well, I should be getting back to my class, now,” said Mary Margaret. “It was very nice meeting you.”

“Nice meeting you, too.” Emma watched her walk back to her students. Her hair was in a pixie cut, unlike the flowing tresses in August’s drawing, but still…

“Congratulations,” said August softly. “You’ve just met your mother.”

~

Killian frowned. Emma’s run-in with her mother had left her clearly rattled, but she’d insisted on continuing their trek around the town. They’d failed to find her father, and had finally stopped for a quick dinner. Emma stared down at her food, her mind clearly far, far away.

“So—the boy,” he said, glancing over to August. “We’ve been avoiding that particular topic all afternoon. What do we make of the boy?”

August shook his head slowly. “I’ve been trying to puzzle it out in my mind, and I keep coming up blank. From what we’ve seen the only person here who has their memories intact is the queen. Maybe the boy was born with some sort of magical potential?”

“Then how do you explain his comment about learning of the prophecy a mere three weeks ago?” Killian asked. “If our theory that the town replays the same day or week over and over again is true, how would he have any memory of such a thing?”

“Maybe he’s not from that other realm,” said Emma softly. “Maybe he’s from here.”

Killian looked at her, once more marveling at the extraordinary nature of the woman in his life. “You make a very good point. If the lad came into town from some other place—or was here before the others arrived, somehow—that could explain him.”

Emma sighed. “Just another mystery to solve. And we’re no closer to solving our original problem.”

Killian suggested that they check into the cozy-looking bed and breakfast nearby, and they could plan out their next moves in more privacy—and possibly even get a decent night’s sleep before trying again to find her father.

Emma agreed and they drove over to the B&B. The proprietor, “Granny,” seemed delighted to have guests. Even in their false memories, guests were clearly a rare commodity in this town. Just as Emma was giving her name for the registry, “Swan. Emma Swan,” a voice rang out behind them.

“Emma. What a lovely name.” The familiar voice sent a chill up and down his spine.

Killian gripped the edge of the registration desk and stared down at the dusty books, willing himself not to turn. Beside him, Emma spun, and he saw her tense up out of the corner of his eye. “Thanks,” she said.

With a scowl Granny pulled a roll of bills out of her pocket and handed them to the crocodile—obviously some sort of rent, or even protection money. Killian clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to turn and throw the man to the ground.

After taking the money—reaching his arm right past Killian’s head—the crocodile said, “Enjoy your stay… Emma.” Then, after a pause, he added, “And might I have the pleasure of meeting your friends?”

August stepped toward the man, “I’m her brother. August.”

“Indeed,” the crocodile’s voice dripped with skepticism. “And you are?”

Killian knew exactly who he was asking. He took a deep breath, and slowly turned to meet his old enemy’s eyes.

The Dark One’s eyes went wide for just an instant, his lips twitching in a flinch. And just as quickly his face settled into an impassive mask.

“Killian Jones. I’m Emma’s fiancé.” He stared down at the smaller man, and saw the Dark One’s jaw tighten.

“Well, a pleasure to meet you all. I’m sure Storybrooke will prove very much to your liking.” With that he strode out of the lobby.

When Emma asked, Granny told her that the man was Mr. Gold—and he owned the whole town.

Killian’s heart raced in his chest as he carried some bags up to their room. August followed them in instead of heading to his own room. Killian dropped his bags as Emma closed the door behind them. He spun to face her. “He recognized me.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, stepping closer to him, clear concern in her eyes. 

“Yes. I’m sure. The bloody crocodile recognized me.” This changed everything. “This evil queen might settle for threats and bluster, but the Dark One never will. We have to find your father and break this damnable curse, and we need to do it as soon as we possibly can.”

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the final chapter! (If you saw this one but not chapter 4 (which I also posted today) go back and read that one first! Thanks for reading. I appreciate each and every one of you.

Emma paced back and forth in their room. August sat slumped in a chair and Killian was perched on the edge of the bed. More than an hour had passed since they checked in, and they still had no clear plan.

“Going door to door is ridiculous,” groaned August. “It’ll take forever and it’ll draw unwanted attention—and we aren’t exactly inconspicuous to begin with.”

Emma threw her hands up in the air. “It’s not like your plan was any better. If we start showing my father’s sketch to the sheriff and the shopkeepers one of them will probably recognize him, but then we’ll have to spin all kinds of lies about why we’re looking for him.”

“I still think searching the mayor’s office is our best bet,” Killian interjected. “She almost surely has records regarding her enemies. August and I both have experience with this sort of thing—”

“No.” Emma glared at him. “There will be no breaking and entering until we’ve run out of other options. The last thing we need is for one of us to end up arrested.”

“So we’re back to door to door, are we?” Killian asked, clearly exasperated.

Emma rubbed her face with her hands. They were right. Going door to door was ridiculous. But all of their favored options could be dangerous. She wasn’t ready to put Killian in danger. Not so soon after making up. They were only just getting started on building toward a new future—not the one she’d imagined before all this. That felt lost forever. But some sort of future together was still possible. She didn’t want to risk losing him again before they had their chance. She sighed. “There’s something else we haven’t talked about. The curse.”

August nodded. “That’s been bothering me, too.”

Killian frowned. “Didn’t the prophecy state that you’d find your parents on your twenty-eighth birthday and break the curse? Do we need to know more than that?”

Emma shrugged. “It can’t be that easy, can it? I mean, do I just find both my parents, get all three of us together, and _bam_ , curse broken? It has to be more complicated than that.”

“I agree. It isn’t Regina’s style—or the Dark One’s—to make things that simple,” said August.

“But you’re both forgetting that the Dark One designed this curse for the purpose of reuniting with his son. He has every reason to want it to be easy to break,” Killian insisted.

Emma clenched her teeth. This whole damn town was full of too many mysteries and not enough answers.

A knock rang out from the door, and she nearly jumped out of her boots. She locked eyes with Killian and his hand reached for his side, as if grasping for a blade that wasn’t hanging there. Instead he clenched it in a fist.

There was another knock.

Emma lifted her chin. “I’m answering.” She turned and headed to the door. With a quick flick she unlatched the chain and then pulled the door open a crack. Her eyes went wide. “Henry?”

The freckle-faced boy smiled up at her. “Hi, Emma! I was right. I knew it was you. The clock started moving. It’s never ever moved before, but twenty minutes ago it started moving and I just couldn’t wait. I had to come see you.”

“Henry—did you sneak out of your house?” If they got caught with a missing child that would bring even more trouble down on them.

“I do it all the time.” Henry gave her a classic “well duh” look. “This is way more important than my bedtime. You’re the princess from my book—the one destined to break the curse and bring the happy endings back to everyone in Storybrooke.”

Damn. This kid knew way too much. As much as she wanted to march him straight home, she needed some answers, first. She looked over her shoulder and mouthed, “It’s okay,” to Killian before stepping into the hall and closing the door behind her. She folded her arms across her chest and looked down at the kid. “What book?”

He grinned. “This one!” He slid his backpack off of one shoulder and dug inside to pull out a massive leather-bound book with the simple title, “Once Upon a Time.”

Emma frowned. “You think I’m in that book?”

He nodded eagerly. “I can show you!” He dropped the backpack and flipped rapidly to the final story in the book. Emma shifted to look at the pages over his shoulder. There in front of her was a picture of a massively pregnant Mary Margaret—er, Snow White—with her father beside her.

“See, there are your parents. They got the prophecy about you, and they found a way to save you from the curse—by sending you through to this world, first. Your mother was supposed to come through before giving birth so that she could take care of you, but the cabinet wasn’t ready in time. So they had to send you through alone.” He flipped to an illustration of her father carrying a tiny baby while fighting off black-clad guards. “He was willing to give his life to save you. Right after he put you in the cabinet the curse washed over the kingdom and brought them all here Storybrooke.” His story was ringing all too true. Who the hell was this kid?

He flipped to another page, showing a picture of the tiny baby wrapped in a blanket with her name embroidered across one corner: “Emma.”

Emma’s heart froze in her chest. That was her blanket. It was the only thing found with her when she was put into foster care. She still had it safely tucked away in a box of keepsakes. “Oh my god,” she whispered.

“I knew it was you,” said Henry. “I was pretty sure before—but now I’m absolutely certain. The clock on the old library clock tower—it’s been frozen at 8:15 for my whole life. But tonight I watched it out my window, and it started to tick! The minute hand is moving, and pretty soon the hour hand will, too. It’s because of you. You’re here to break the curse.”

Emma held her breath. This kid could answer so many questions—but could she trust him? “Look, Henry, this is all really interesting stuff, but I’m worried about your parents. Won’t they miss you when they find out you’re not in bed?”

Henry frowned for the first time since she met him. “My mom, you mean. She’s not married. And after she puts me to bed she never checks on me. She doesn’t really love me, you know. I don’t think she _can_ love.”

Emma frowned back. It couldn’t be, could it? But how else would he know the truth? “Henry—what’s your mom’s name?”

He huffed. “Regina Mills. But she’s not even my real mom. I’m adopted.”

So that explained why he wasn’t cursed. But knowing his mother’s identity left Emma more cautious than ever. “Henry—I’m adopted, too. That doesn’t mean my mother doesn’t love me. I’m sure yours loves you.”

“She doesn’t,” he insisted. “She’s evil. It says right in this book that she’s really the evil queen. She let me think I was crazy when I told her that no one in town ever changed except for me. She started sending me to therapy instead of telling me the truth. If she really loved me, she’d tell me the truth.”

Emma sighed. On that point she could completely relate. “So… if your mom won’t tell you the truth, where’d you get the book?”

Henry smiled again, clearly glad to change the subject. “From your mom—Mary Margaret. She said it appeared in her closet one day as if by magic, and she gave it to me to cheer me up.”

Emma folded her arms across her chest again. Okay. So this kid was onto something, and his mom was the evil queen. And if Emma didn’t get him home soon she’d be in deep shit. “Look, kid, I can’t confirm that I am who you think I am.”

“But you can’t deny it either,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. He really was precocious, wasn’t he?

“In either case,” she said, dodging his statement, “if you don’t get home to your mom soon there’s going to be a heap of trouble for both of us to deal with, and I have important things to do. I don’t have time to deal with that kind of trouble. So please—let me take you home.”

The kid’s expression fell in disappointment, but he nodded. “Okay. I get it. You have a curse to break and you can’t have my mom causing trouble.”

“Something like that.”

“At least take this,” he said, handing her the book. “It might help.”

She paused for moment, about to protest. But the kid was right—she needed all the help she could get right now, and a magical book was a step in the right direction. “Okay.” She took the book from his hands. “Let me put this down and grab a jacket. I’ll walk you home. It’s not safe for a kid your age to be out alone this time of night.”

Henry nodded and she stepped back inside the room for a moment. Speaking in a low tone so that Henry wouldn’t hear, she handed the book to Killian and said, “The kid is Regina’s son—she adopted him from outside, and he noticed that no one changed except for him. A few weeks ago he got his hands on this book. The two of you should look through it while I walk him home. Okay?”

Killian’s eyes looked nervous, but he nodded. “Be safe, Swan.”

“I will be.”

Henry chatted amiably the whole walk to his house, trying to draw her out into confessing her identity, but Emma kept her answers short and vague. She didn’t want him blabbing everything to Regina. Not when they still needed to find her father.

Emma clenched her teeth when she saw the police cruiser parked in front of the big white mansion where Henry apparently lived. As she walked him up the front path the door flew open and Regina dashed outside, the Sheriff ambling behind her.

“Henry! Where were you? I was so worried,” said Regina, pulling her son into a tight hug.

Emma’s heart squeezed a little. So. Ingrid wasn’t the only evil queen to adopt a child. What did this mean about Regina? Was she still the same person she’d been when she first cast the curse?

Henry was stiff in Regina’s arms, unresponsive to her affection—but Emma remembered pulling the same act on Ingrid when she was upset.

She forced a smile. “I’m glad I got him back before you started a town-wide search.”

Regina straightened up, her expression going cold again. “What exactly were you doing with my son?”

“I stepped out of the B&B to go for a short walk, and I found him out there all by himself,” said Emma. “He didn’t say what he was doing, but he had the look of a kid sneaking away from home. I know because I used to be that kid. So I prodded him into letting me walk him home. And I’m glad I did, otherwise who knows where he might be right now?”

Sheriff Humbert smiled. “Well done, officer Swan.” 

Regina looked less pleased. “Henry, go inside. I’ll be right in to talk to you.”

Henry nodded glumly, and Emma couldn’t help but feel sorry for the kid. He was about to get a hell of a lecture. He headed inside, and the Sheriff followed, saying something about making sure Henry was alright.

Regina turned to Emma. “Thank you for bringing my son home to me, Miss Swan. I apologize if he caused you any trouble.”

“Not at all,” Emma said. “I’m happy to help.”

“Well, thank you again. I do hope the rest of your stay in Storybrooke will be less eventful. Goodnight, Miss Swan.”

Emma nodded goodnight and watched Regina stride back into her house. Well. The curse still needed to be broken, but this muddied the good vs. evil waters a little. After all, Emma had a lot of experience with storybook villains who’d turned their lives around for the sake of their adopted kids. Maybe Regina had, as well. Only time would tell.

~

Killian and August flipped through the book intently. Every illustration held a portrait of someone they’d seen that day. And Regina Millls was looking more and more menacing by the minute. Killian wasn’t exactly thrilled that he’d let Emma go off to the mayor’s house by herself.

In spite of their reconciliation the night before, things still felt more than a little unsettled between them. He wanted to make the most of this second chance, and that meant making sure that all of them made it through this curse unscathed.

He was on the verge of going after her when the door to their room opened and she stepped inside. He leapt to his feet and wrapped his arms around her.

She chuckled. “Wow—I didn’t think I was gone _that_ long.”

He stepped back from the embrace, but kept his hand on her hip. Their two weeks apart had been too much for him. “You weren’t, but this whole place has my nerves on edge.”

“Tell me about it,” she replied. “I got Henry home safe and sound—and just in time, too. His mom had already called the Sheriff.”

“Was she… did she threaten you at all?” Killian asked.

Emma shook her head. “No. She was a little cold, but not threatening. I think she suspects who I am, but she’s not completely certain about it. Anyway—I’m not sure she’s all that bad. She really seems to love Henry, though she’s been lying to hide the truth from him. Sound familiar?”

Killian sighed, the old guilt stirring up again. “That it does. But whatever she might seem like now, she was among the worst of all villains before. You need to be cautious.”

Emma frowned.

August stepped up, holding the book. “Read it, Emma. It’ll help you understand just who she was and who your parents were. You need to read this.”

Emma took the book and sighed. “Looks like I’m in for a late night.” She raised her head. “August—you should go to your room. Call Ingrid and see if she has any ideas on how to break this curse. And Killian, you call Bae and update him on things. Then the two of you should try to get to sleep. At least some of us need to be fresh in the morning.”

Once again Emma seemed determined to carry the bulk of this weight on her own shoulders. She still wasn’t letting him be a full partner. He understood, but that didn’t make him like it. Killian caressed her arm. “And what of you?”

She squeezed the book against her chest. “I need answers. Right now this book is my best bet. I’ll go down to the sitting room to read so I don’t keep you up.”

He wanted to stop her—to force her to take a break. But he knew by now that there was no forcing Emma Swan to do anything she didn’t want to do. “Alright. I’ll see you when you’re done.”

~

Exhausted, Emma closed the book and slumped back in her chair. It had taken hours, but she’d finished the whole thing. Her heart ached and her checks were wet with tears. Her parents had wanted her so desperately. They’d been so eager to be a family, and so devastated to let her go. For the first time she understood that she wasn’t just breaking this curse for everyone else—she was breaking it for herself.

She also understood why Killian had been so concerned about Regina. The things she’d done—the crimes she’d committed—it was almost unimaginable.

But Killian and Ingrid had killed people, too. They hurt people. Ingrid had even frozen a whole kingdom. Was that much different from what Regina had done?

Nothing was clear anymore. Nothing was black and white. 

After reading that book it seemed so easy to condemn Regina—but then she might have to condemn Ingrid and Killian, too, or she’d be a hypocrite.

Damn, she was tired. And her head was pounding. There was no way she’d sort this out tonight.

She carried the book upstairs and tried to slip into her room as quietly as possible, but Killian still stirred and propped himself on one elbow as soon as she came in.

“Sweetheart?” he said softly. “Are you alright?”

Emma smiled and sighed bitterly. “Not really. But I’ve been not alright for long enough now that I’m starting to get used to it.”

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” he said.

She shook her head, kicking off her boots and shimmying out of her pants. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. It’s just…fate. It still sucks, but you can’t take the blame for this.”

She scooted under the covers and snuggled up against him. “Let’s just sleep, okay? I really need to sleep.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

She wasn’t sure how she’d ever turn her mind off, but with Killian’s warm body next to hers and his arm wrapped around her, holding her tight, she fell asleep faster than she ever would have imagined.

~

“Coffee. I need coffee,” Emma groaned.

Her head pounded as Killian led her toward Granny’s Diner with his arm around her waist. “The coffee is just a few steps away. Don’t worry. We’ll be there soon.”

They had their work cut out for them today. Some coffee and a good breakfast were just the thing they needed.

They stepped inside the diner, August trailing behind them, and headed for a booth when Emma stopped short. Henry was sitting alone in one of the booths, and his eyes lit up when he saw her.

She squeezed Killian’s arm and tilted her head toward the empty booth next to them. “Go ahead and order for me. I’ll be back in a sec.”

She strode up to Henry and stood over him, her arms folded across her chest. “I hope you didn’t run away from your mom, again.”

He shook his head. “Nope. She’s in the bathroom. But I’m glad to see you. Did you read the book?” He bounced eagerly in his seat.

Emma crouched down beside him. “Yes. I did.”

He nodded eagerly. “You see? I told you—my mom is evil.”

“Hey,” said Emma intently. “My adoptive mom was an evil queen, too.”

Henry’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

Emma nodded. “Yep. But once I came into her life she started to change. She changed because she loved me, and she wanted to be a better person for me. And your mom is doing that too, even if you don’t always see it. Adoptive parents love their kids every bit as much as birth parents do. Sometimes even more. She picked you. She chose you. And she still chooses to love you every single day. Got that?”

“Got it,” murmured Henry.

“Good. Now go easy on her, okay? No more sneaking off in the middle of the night.”

He sighed and nodded.

“Henry,” came Regina’s imperious voice from just behind her. “Finish your eggs. It’s almost time for school.”

Emma stood upright with a start and turned around. “Good morning, Mayor Mills.”

“Good morning, Miss Swan. Might I have a word with you?” she gestured to the back corner of the restaurant, near the corridor to the restrooms.

“Sure,” replied Emma. If Regina heard what she said to Henry there was no telling how she’d react—but at least Killian and August were here to back her up.

Once they were out of Henry’s earshot, Regina’s face softened. “I heard some of what you were saying to Henry, and I appreciate it. I admitted to him that he’s adopted less than a year ago, and things have been rough between us ever since. I try—I really do—but he never seems to believe that I love him as much as his birth mother would have.”

Emma nodded. “He seems pretty insecure. Just give him time. And don’t lie to him about anything again, if you can help it. When you give kids trust and respect, you tend to get the same in return. The opposite is true, too.”

Regina raised an eyebrow. “Are you a parent, Miss Swan?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “Just speaking from my own experience with foster kids and the juvenile offenders I’ve run into in my time as a cop.”

“Were you really adopted? Sorry to be so intrusive.”

“It’s okay. And yes. I was in the foster system until I was fourteen, when my foster mom adopted me.”

Regina blinked at her, a wondering expression on her face. “Would your gentlemen mind giving up your company for a little while? I’d love to take you out to lunch. I could really use an adult perspective on what it’s like to be adopted. It could really help with Henry.”

Emma’s mouth hung open a little, but then she nodded. “Yeah. Sure. They’ll be fine without me. I’d be happy to meet you for lunch.”

They set a time to meet back at Granny’s at 12:30, and then Regina left to walk Henry to school.

Emma slid into her seat beside Killian and took an eager gulp of her coffee. Both men looked at her expectantly. “Apparently,” she said, “Regina likes me. We’re meeting for lunch so she can get my perspective as someone who was adopted.”

“Truly?” Killian looked skeptical.

“Yes. Like I told you—I think she’s not the same person she used to be. She might not even mind so much when we break the curse, because then she can come clean with her son and heal their relationship.” Emma’s mind was spinning a little at the thought.

“If the rest of the town lets her,” August said darkly. “She has a lot of enemies here, Emma, and they won’t be as forgiving as you.”

That was ominous enough to dampen Emma’s mood. But she was distracted when Killian spoke up.

“I know you’ll hate this idea, but I have to say it: we know you’ll be keeping Regina away from her office for at least an hour. Wouldn’t that provide us with the perfect time to break in and snoop around a bit—see what we can find out?”

Emma groaned. “Not back to this plan again.”

“Emma—we need some kind of direction. Wandering the town is getting us nowhere,” said August.

“You too?” She couldn’t believe they were ganging up on her for this crazy plan.

“Ingrid agreed with the idea,” August added.

“Oh my God, I haven’t had enough caffeine for this, yet.” Emma ran a hand through her hair. “You seriously want to do this?” She hated the plan—really hated it—but she hadn’t managed to come up with anything better. Regina might be on the path to redemption, but that didn’t mean she’d open up about how to break the curse if Emma came clean with her. This might be their best option, no matter how dangerous it might be.

“Emma, let us do this,” Killian said softly.

She sighed. “Fine. Fine. But you guys need to be careful. Promise?”

“I promise,” said Killian.

She really hoped they wouldn’t regret this.

~

The rest of their morning exploring town proved just as fruitless as the previous afternoon, and Killian was relieved when Emma left them for her lunch with Regina. They needed to make some meaningful progress—they couldn’t just hang around the town indefinitely.

Picking the lock on the Mayor’s office was easy, and August knew a few things about disabling security systems (Killian would have to ask him about that sometime), so they slipped in undetected. Most of Regina’s drawers and file cabinets came up with nothing of significance, but August turned up a file about a comatose John Doe in the hospital who Regina had assumed custodianship of. 

“According to the book Emma’s father was badly injured just before the curse hit,” said Killian. “What do you bet John Doe is the one we’ve been looking for.”

August nodded. “It’s the best lead we’ve had, yet.”

They tidied up the office as best as they could and headed out to the hospital. Killian flirted with the supervising nurse to keep her distracted while August crept back through the hospital ward. When he emerged he gave Killian a solemn nod.

Killian excused himself and headed outside with August. “So—we’ve found her father. But he’s a vegetable. What now?”

August shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Killian clenched his teeth. They’d been spinning their wheels for a day and a half and they were no closer to breaking the bloody curse than they had been before they crossed into town in the first place. They needed answers. And, unfortunately, he thought he knew where they might find them.

“We have to go to Rumpelstiltskin’s shop,” he said darkly.

August froze. “You can’t be serious.”

“He remembers the truth,” Killian said, “and if anyone could build an answer to this curse into his new identity, it would be the author of that curse.”

When they’d passed the shop earlier Killian had noticed a cluttered storefront with what appeared to be a large storage room behind it. He proposed that August keep the crocodile occupied up front while he broke into the back to search for anything that might give them answers. It was a bloody dangerous plan, and he knew Emma would hate it, but he needed to help her end this. He couldn’t just stand back and watch her twisting in the wind for much longer.

August reluctantly agreed.

“Okay,” said Killian. “But I’m going to text Emma, first. I promised never to hide things from her again, and I intend to keep that promise. But she won’t get here in time to stop us.”

August shook his head. “You do like playing with fire, don’t you?”

“What can I say? Once a pirate, always a pirate.”

For the first few minutes their plan seemed to be going off without a hitch. The lock on the back door was far more basic than Killian ever could have guessed, and he was able to get inside with almost no sound. He heard the sound of August up in the front asking leading questions about the crocodile’s real estate holdings in town. Perfect—that would keep the man busy for a long time.

As he crept about the storage room he saw many objects that clearly originated in the Enchanted Forest—but none of them seemed to have any obvious magical properties or anything else that would connect them to the curse. He was about to give up in frustration when he spotted a clear jar on a shelf—a jar holding a severed hand floating in fluid.

Rage washed over him. The crocodile had kept his hand all these years? Storing it as a bloody trophy? That man didn’t deserve to see Bae again. He didn’t even deserve to live.

Without warning an arm wrapped around him, pushing a damp rag with a pungent, chemical smell against his mouth and nose.

Killian struggled as long as he could before sinking into darkness. His final waking thought was that he’d failed, and the people he loved would pay the price.

~

Emma’s lunch with Regina went shockingly well. The woman was genuinely distressed by the decline in her relationship with her son since she told him he was adopted, and once Emma could set aside her worry about Killian and August, she really sank into giving Regina advice.

By the end of the lunch she found herself actually liking the woman, and wishing the best for both her and Henry. She wasn’t sure how well that would go over with her birth parents once she broke the curse (if she broke the curse) but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

“Thank you for this,” said Regina as she prepared to leave. “I didn’t realize how much I needed a talk like this.”

“You’re welcome,” said Emma. “I’m happy to help.”

Regina paused and looked down for a moment before looking back up with a genuine smile on her face. “I’m sorry I was so cold to you when we first met. Though we get the usual tourist traffic we almost never have anyone move here from somewhere else. I confess it rattled me. I’m still not sure the city council will approve the extra salary budget that Graham is asking for, but if you decide to apply, give me a call and I’ll see what I can do.” She slid a business card across the table.

Huh. Regina still seemed to be discouraging her from moving here permanently, but in a way that could potentially preserve a long-distance friendship. Emma wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Flattered, but at the same time disappointed that Regina seemed determined to keep Henry in the dark about the truth. “I’ll do that,” replied Emma, taking the card.

Once she was outside she checked her phone. There were some texts from Killian that had arrived about twenty minutes ago. As she read them her jaw dropped. “Son of a bitch!”

She took off at a jog down the street toward Gold’s shop. If something happened to them—either of them—she didn’t know what she’d do.

She barely slowed down before bursting through the door of the pawnshop with a little tinkle of a bell. The place looked deserted. “Hello?” she called.

She heard a slight groan coming from the back of the shop. Without hesitation she headed through the heavy drapes covering the passage to the back room.

August lay stretched out on the floor, a long sword lying next to him and a note pinned to his shirt.

There was no sign of Killian.

She cursed and knelt by August. His pulse was strong and he groaned again when she touched him. “Wake up, August!” Damn it—why did they have to charge into danger like this?

He started to stir when she ripped the note off of his shirt.

_”Miss Swan – you have no idea how delighted I am by your arrival, though slightly less delighted by your company. I know you know exactly what’s going on in this little town of ours. It’s time to step up and be the Savior you were meant to be. If you want to see your precious pirate again before he becomes lunch for a very large, very old friend of mine, I suggest you hurry. I’ve left your father’s sword here to help you on your way._

_“Best wishes – Gold”_

“Shit. August! Now!” She couldn’t wait around at a time like this.

“I’m awake. I think,” he said, rubbing his face. He started to sit up. 

“What the hell were you thinking, coming here like this,” she snarled. 

He looked around. “Where’s Killian?”

“Ugh!” She thrust the note in his face and stood up, pulling out her phone.

While August made shocked noises over the contents of the note she hit the speed dial for Ingrid. She picked up on the first ring. “Emma?”

“Killian’s been taken,” Emma said without preamble.

“What?”

“I don’t know how, but Bae’s dad got the drop on him. He left me note saying that if I don’t find Killian soon some sort of creature will eat him. I need you! I need you here now!” Emma felt the hysteria rising in her throat.

“We’re on our way. Call if anything changes.” 

“I will.” She hung up glad that the rest of her family was coming, but still with no idea where to find Killian.

August had scrambled to his feet. “What do you think he means? Is there some sort of monster in town?”

“I have no idea,” yelled Emma. “How could you be such idiots and walk into danger like this?” She could hardly breathe. She’d known coming here might be dangerous, but the reality of it was only now hitting home. The thought of losing Killian for good made everything inside of her hurt. She didn’t know how to do this without him. He was her _family_.

“I’m sorry, Emma. We thought we might find something to help break the curse. We had no idea he was ready with ether or chloroform or whatever it was he had on that rag.” August shook his head.

Emma paced a few times, wracking her brain for ideas.

She stopped short. There was one person in town who might know exactly where Killian was. She pulled out Regina’s business card and dialed.

“Hello?” said Regina.

“It’s Emma. I don’t have time for chit-chat. Just listen to me. I know about the curse. I’m the baby princess who was destined to come break the curse. I’m at Gold’s shop and I need to talk to you in person. Get your ass over here right now!”

There was a short pause. Then Regina said, “I’ll be right there.”

After hanging up Emma strode out to Gold’s register and started digging around the cabinet beneath it, smiling in triumph when she found what she’d been looking for—a large, old revolver. Not her weapon of choice, but she didn’t have time to run back to her car for her own gun. She popped the cylinder open and gave it a spin. Fully loaded. Perfect.

August stepped out of the back and stared at her. “Emma—what are you doing?”

“Getting ready for a fight,” she growled. She’d be damned if she gave up on Killian without a fight.

He sighed. “You’ll need this, then.” He held up the sword—her father’s sword.

Her breath shook in her throat. She tucked the revolver in her waistband and took the sword. It was heavier than the one she’d trained with, but it felt familiar in her hand. As if it belonged there. Shit.

The bell tinkled, and Regina strode in, her eyes wide and worried. “What the hell is going on here?” she demanded.

Emma lowered the sword and swallowed hard. “Regina—I need your help. I’m sure I’m the last person you feel like helping right now, but you need to listen to me. Gold took Killian. They were enemies back in your old realm, and if I don’t find him soon Gold will kill him. I can’t let that happen.”

Regina squeezed her lips together and folded her arms. “You’re right, Miss Swan. After that bomb you dropped on the phone you are absolutely the last person I want to help right now. After our lunch I was starting to think you weren’t really who I thought you were. I should have trusted my gut. I’m tempted to call Graham and have him run you out of town right now.”

Emma tightened her grip on the sword and stalked toward Regina. “Listen to me, and listen to me good. I am breaking this curse one way or the other. You and I both know that Henry already knows the truth. The longer you keep lying to him the worse you’re going to alienate him, until someday he runs away for real. And deep down you already know that. But I’m willing to make a deal to help you.”

Regina twisted her lips in irritation. “I’m listening.”

“Help me save Killian, and I’ll help you find your second chance at a happy life with Henry. I promise.”

“How can you promise me any such thing when you’re here to destroy my happy ending?” Regina frowned.

“This,” Emma gestured around her, “this town stuck on perpetual repeat, isn’t your happy ending. If it was you never would have felt the need to adopt Henry. And if you keep treating him like this you _will_ lose him—I can guarantee it. But if you tell him the truth now—if you help me save Killian and break the curse—then you’ll prove to him how much you’ve changed. He’ll see that you love him so much you’re willing to let go of something you thought would give you your happy ending in order to give _him_ his happy ending. And I’ll vouch for you. Once I’m reunited with my birth parents I’ll make sure they and the rest of the town leaves you alone to live your life with Henry—whether you do it here or somewhere else. I promise.”

Regina shook her head. “You’ve known me for less than a day. Why should I believe you’ll give me a second chance at happiness?”

Emma took another step toward her. “Because my adopted mom was an evil queen, too. Ingrid of Arendelle. And Killian—the love of my life—” her voice shook, “was Captain Hook. Another villain.” She shook her head. “Both of them found a second chance in this world. And now they’re two of the best people I know. I wouldn’t be who I am today without them. And I know that being Henry’s mom changed you—I just _know_ it. So please—help me, and I’ll do everything in my power as Savior to ensure that you have your shot at happiness.”

Regina’s hard expression wavered. “Without this town—without what I’ve built here—I don’t know who I’ll be or what I’ll do.”

“I’ll be there to help you find out,” said Emma, desperate. Every second that passed was brining Killian closer to his death. She needed help, and she needed it now.

Regina looked down at ground, her expression conflicted. When she looked back up she said, “They were really villains?”

“They were. And they changed. And I promise I’ll be here to help you change, too. Just help me. Please.”

Regina gave the faintest of nods. “What can I do to help?”

Emma let out her breath in relief and handed Gold’s note to her. “Do you have any idea where Killian might be?”

Regina’s face blanched, and she nodded. “I know exactly where he is. An old friend of mine refused to help me in my time of need, so when I cast the curse I trapped her here in her non-human form. She’s in an abandoned mine beneath the library.”

Right across the street. Emma felt like jumping for joy. But one thought stopped her. “What is she? What form is she in?”

Regina shook her head. “She’s a dragon.”

Fuck fuck fuck. Emma dashed out of the shop and across the street toward the old library. She noticed Regina running after her, with August hobbling behind them both.

When she reached the padlocked door she glared at the lock in anger. _Intent and focus._ She had this.

She stretched out her hand and with a burst of focused anger from her mind the lock crumbled off the door as if she’d taken a pair of bolt cutters to it.

“You have magic?” Regina exclaimed.

“Being the Savior has its perks,” Emma replied, throwing open the doors.

She looked around the dim and dusty library. “So how the hell do we get down to that mine?”

Regina strode ahead of her and pushed aside a false wall to reveal an antique work elevator. “Someone needs to stay up here to operate it manually.”

“Perfect,” Emma snapped, pulling the elevator gate open. “August—you stay here.”

“Emma—” he started to protest.

“Hey—have you ever faced a dragon?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. I haven’t.”

Emma’s heart was pounding. She needed to move. She needed to get to Killian _now_. “So stay here and run the elevator. I need her with me.”

Regina looked startled. Emma glared at her. “We have a deal, don’t we?”

Regina nodded. “I suppose we do.” She stepped onto the elevator beside Emma and they closed the gate.

Neither of them spoke as August lowered them down the dark shaft. Once the elevator hit the bottom, Emma turned to Regina. “Is she pretty scary?”

Regina took a deep breath. “Yes. She is.”

“Great,” Emma muttered. Even after her sword fighting lessons with Killian she’d never actually believed she’d have to do something heroic to break the curse. Especially not something like slaying a dragon.

Her hand holding the sword shook. But she had to do this. Killian’s life depended on it.

“Do you know how to use a gun?” she murmured.

“I do.” Regina nodded.

“Good.” Emma paused to pull the revolver out of her waistband and handed it to Regina. “You might need this.”

Regina took the weapon and studied it. “You’re showing a lot of trust in giving this to me.”

Emma tightened her grip on the sword and started back into the dark cavern. “Like I said—I believe in second chances. Yours starts right now. Time to be a hero, Regina.”

She walked forward slowly, scanning the large cavern and the various passages branching off from it. There was no sign of a dragon—or of Killian. Gold better not be messing with her.

They moved past an outcropping, and there he was. Killian lay ways in the distance, unmoving in the dust, showing no sign of consciousness. Emma broke into a run.

That’s when she heard a rumble.

“Look out!” cried Regina.

Emma turned her head to see a massive grey beast rising from a prone position on the cavern floor beside her, its green eyes glaring with malevolence. “Shit.”

She dashed behind an outcropping just in time to save herself from a blast of flame. She smelled the tips of some of her hair sizzling as the flame passed.

She cast her eyes over to Killian. He still lay unconscious nearly fifty yards away. She had to keep the dragon from noticing him.

Gunshots rang out and the dragon reared and roared above her. “Run!” Regina yelled.

She was really doing it—she was being a hero. And Emma wasn’t going to let her pay for that with her life.

Regina shot a few more times. The dragon stumbled backward off a ledge to a mist-covered lower level, out of Emma’s view.

“You’re out of bullets!” Emma yelled. “Get to safety!”

She didn’t hear Regina’s reply. It was obscured by another roar as the dragon reared up out of the shaft, its wings spread and its chest pulsing with fiery light.

 _Intent and focus_ , Emma thought, _Come on magic, don’t fail me now._ She pulled back her sword arm and focused all her will on the blade and its intended target—the dragon’s glowing heart. With a cry of rage she flung the sword. It flew straight and true. 

The dragon screamed as fissures of fire spread across its body, and suddenly it exploded in a puff of ash and heat.

Emma stared in wonder, her chest heaving for breath. She did it. She killed a dragon.

Regina strode up, her hair mussed and her face smudged with dirt. “Well done, Miss Swan. Now let’s go save that love of yours.”

In a flash Emma turned her eyes back to Killian. He seemed unaffected by the battle, but he still hadn’t moved. She ran toward him, stumbling a few times over the rocky ground, and flung herself to her knees beside him. She felt his face, and then grabbed his wrist to search for a pulse.

When Regina reached them Emma looked up at her. “He’s still warm and he has a pulse. It’s steady but slow and weak. What did Gold do to him?”

“I don’t know—I’m sorry,” Regina shook her head. “It could be some sort of drug or poison. But I managed to smuggle a few bits of magic through with the curse. If I did, I’m sure Gold did, too. I doubt he brought through enough for a genuine sleeping curse, but there are potions that can put a prisoner into a deep sleep for days—or even weeks. And if you can’t get food or water into them, they die before they have a chance to wake up.”

A chill of fear ran down Emma’s spine. She wished with all her heart that Ingrid was here right now. She shook her head. “No. I won’t let that happen. Killian! Killian! Wake up!” She patted his cheek and shook his arm. What if it was a drug overdose or a potion that would slowly kill him? What could she do?

Tears rose in her eyes and she let them fall. She leaned over Killian, holding her face inches from his. “Come on, Killian. Please—you know I forgive you, right? I never told you, but I should have. I forgive you. You have to know that. You can’t leave me. Not now—not when we’re so close to finishing this. Please. Please wake up.”

He didn’t even twitch. Oh god, he couldn’t be dying. She needed him. She needed him so much.

All her dreams of their house full of family flashed through her mind. All her dreams of marriage and a happily ever after. She couldn’t have that without him. He was _it_. She’d never have this again.

“Don’t leave me, Killian,” she whispered. “You’re my future. Please—I love you.”

In an anguished impulse she leaned forward and kissed him.

~

Killian felt like he’d been wandering in a fog for years. He could hear echoes of his past life all around him. The creak of the sails in a good wind. The splash of the surf. Milah’s dying words. His own cruel orders shouted at his crew during that first year in Neverland. Pan’s taunting laugh. Bae’s words of anger when he discovered the drawing of his mother. And later, Bae’s words of love. Interspersed through it all was Emma. The moment she first told him of her superpower. Her laughter. Her sigh over a fresh cup of coffee in the morning. Her whispered words of love after a passionate encounter. 

She filled him up and permeated his soul. But this fog still surrounded him. No matter how hard he searched, he couldn’t find her.

Suddenly a wave of warmth washed over him. He tried shouting Emma’s name, but nothing came out.

He could hear her whispering in his ear. Don’t leave me…You’re my future…I love you.

God he loved her. He had to fight his way out of this. He couldn’t leave her alone.

Even through the fog he felt her lips, warm and soft against his own. A surge of power flowed through him that could only be magic, and suddenly he could move again. He raised his head and parted his lips to return her kiss, brushing the hair back from her face with his hand.

She was laughing and crying all at once.

“I’m still here, Emma,” her murmured. “I’m not leaving you. Not ever.”

He sat and pulled her into his arms, where she sank into his shoulder. “I was so scared. I’ve never been so scared.”

He kissed her temple. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have gone to the crocodile’s shop. I should have known he’d be ready for us. I’ll never do something that foolish again.”

She laughed again. “Oh, you probably will. Just make sure you bring me along next time, okay?”

He grinned. “I promise.” For the first time since waking he looked around. They were in some sort of cave—with Regina?

“What the bloody hell is going on?”

Emma smiled, looking dazed. “I killed a dragon.” 

He felt his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. A dragon?

“And then you were here, and I thought you were dying,” she said. “And then…” She trailed off.

“And then what?” he asked.

This time Regina supplied the answer. “And then she woke you up and broke the curse, all in one fell swoop.” Bitterness filled her voice, and unshed tears glistened in her eyes. What was she doing here anyway? Was she _helping_?

“How?” he asked, unsure of what else to say.

Emma shrugged, a suddenly bashful expression on her face. “True love’s kiss.”

Killian’s heart skipped a beat and he couldn’t stop a broad grin from spreading across his face. “Well, fancy that. True love’s kiss.” In all his years he’d never imagined himself as worthy of such a thing. And with such a woman. The gods had surely smiled on him, today.

Emma beamed back at him. “I guess I’m more like my parents than I thought.”

Once again the moment was broken by Regina. “Enough with the googly eyes. I get it—you’re true love. What you’ve failed to grasp is that even as we speak the people of this town are waking up from a twenty-eight year illusion. They’re going to want answers. And I need you to make good on your promise.”

Emma nodded. She stood and tugged Killian to his feet. “What promise?” he asked.

“Well—the two villains in my life both found a second chance in this world, and both of them made the most of it. I promised to give Regina the same chance that you and Ingrid had. And you owe it to her, too. You’d have been a dragon snack by now if she hadn’t helped.” Emma held his gaze.

So—she’d promised the evil queen a chance at a happy ending. The townsfolk might not be too pleased at the idea (including her birth parents), but given her history he understood her choice. He’d have done the same. He met Regina’s suspicious gaze and nodded. “Aye. I do owe you my life. I’ll stand with Emma and do all in my power to ensure you have your chance at redemption.” He thought back on his early days with Bae, and of the way Regina hovered protectively over her lad in the diner. “Parenthood changes a person. In my experience learning to love someone else more than yourself is the surest path to redemption. I’ll be happy to see you walk that path with Henry.”

Regina looked incredulous. “You’re a parent?”

He nodded solemnly. “I am. And I dare say my son is probably quite worried about me right now. Yours is probably worried about you, too. Let’s get out of here and get back to our boys.”

A hint of a smile danced at the edge of Regina’s mouth. “Yes. Let’s.”

Killian clung to Emma’s hand during the whole ride up on the creaky old elevator. She’d wanted to propose marriage to him before he betrayed her trust. Perhaps now he’d have the chance to beat her to it.

This was his future. He was going to make the most of it.

Once they reached the top his eyes went wide with surprise. Bae and Becky stood near a desk, while August and Ingrid stood nearby, with young Henry in front of them all.

“Mom!” Henry cried, dashing into Regina’s arms. She fell to her knees and held him close.

“You all made it,” said Emma, tugging Killian out of the elevator.

“I’ve never driven so fast in my life,” said Ingrid, grinning. “But it seems you managed just fine on your own.”

Without a word Bae rushed toward him, and Killian met him with a warm embrace.

“After Emma called I was worried I’d never see you again,” Bae said, his voice rough with emotion.

“I’m a survivor, son—remember? I’ll always be here when you need me. Trust me.” His heart swelled in his chest. This was it. Bae was going to have to face his father. But Killian would be with him every step of the way.

“How did you know where to find me?” he heard Regina ask.

“It was the magic, Mom,” said Henry. “I saw it rush over everyone like a blast of light. And then they all started to wake up. I left school to come and find you. I was worried.”

Emma stepped toward them. “You don’t have to worry, kid. Your mom proved herself a hero, today. When I came to her for help she stepped up and risked her life to help me break the curse.”

Henry’s eyes went wide, and he turned to stare at Regina. “You did? You helped break the curse?”

She nodded, tears in her eyes. “I did. Emma promised that if I helped her she would make sure we got our second chance. I’m so sorry for lying to you, Henry. I want to be a better person for you. I want to make things right. I love you so much.” Her son leaned forward, pulling her into a fresh embrace.

Killian edged over to Emma and took her hand. “You’re an extraordinary woman, Emma Swan. I’m privileged to be in your life.”

Emma shook her head wordlessly. She’d always been too modest for her own good.

“Things are about to get very interesting in town,” said August. “And we’ve all got people we need to find. How about we go find them?”

They followed his lead and stepped out of the library into the sunlight.

The crocodile stood in the middle of the street waiting for them.

Killian’s jaw clenched and he quickly tugged Emma so they stood directly beside Bae. They needed to be ready for anything.

But Rumpelstiltskin ignored them all. He only had eyes for Bae.

“Bae? Son? Is that really you? I… I didn’t think you’d be here. I was ready to go after you. To find you. But here you are. You came back to me.” Tears stood in the man’s eyes.

Killian felt Bae trembling beside him.

Bae wrapped his arm around Becky’s shoulder. “Hi, Papa.”

The crocodile took a faltering step toward them, and then looked at Killian and then at Becky, confusion growing in his eyes. “Bae—why are you with these people? What’s going on?”

Bae took a deep breath. “This is my family, Papa.”

Rumple gasped and stumbled backward. “What?”

Bae spoke again. “After I… left you… I ended up in Neverland. Killian found me there. He took me in. I’ve been with him ever since.”

Rumple shook his head. “No.”

“Yes,” replied Bae, his voice growing firmer and more confident with every word. “He’s been my father for more than two hundred years. He never left me—never gave up on me. Not once.”

Rumple shook his head again, his face crumbling with sorrow. For a moment Killian found himself feeling sorry for the man.

“And this is Becky,” said Bae. “She’s my family, too. We’re having a baby, Papa. A little girl.”

Rumple trembled. “You’re going to be a father? My little boy is going to be a father?”

Bae nodded. “I am. And… and… I’ll talk to you, Papa. You deserve that much. I’ll talk to you. But you tried to take Killian away from me today. You can’t expect me to forgive that. You’re still making the kinds of choices that drove me away from you in the first place. It’s time to change, Papa, or you’re never going to be in my life again.”

Killian had never been prouder. Bae had been terrified of his father all his life, but now he looked fearless.

Rumple stretched an imploring hand toward him. “But Bae… everything I’ve done… all the choices I’ve made, all the hard decisions, all the centuries of planning… it was all for you. So that we could be together again.”

Bae stepped forward, looking stronger than Killian had ever seen. “Using dark magic to twist thousands of lives just to find me doesn’t earn you the right to be in my life. Real family stands by each other no matter what. Real family makes sacrifices for each other and tries to be better people for each other’s sakes. I already have my real family!” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Maybe if you try to be a better person, too, maybe—just maybe—I’ll let you back into my life, and into your granddaughter’s life. But you’re not ready, yet, Papa. What you did to Killian today proves that.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. But until I see proof that you’ve changed, I can’t let you back in. I won’t let you hurt the people I love.”

Rumple shook his head, his face still contorted with anguish. “Bae,” he wailed softly. Then he turned his eyes on Killian. 

Killian didn’t waver, holding Rumple’s gaze. Why had he thought this pitiful little man deserved death? No. He deserved exactly what was happening to him right now. Nothing could ever hurt him worse than this.

Rumple’s face twisted into a vicious snarl, his hatred practically erupting from his gaze. Then he turned, leaning on his cane, and strode swiftly away.

Killian turned to Bae. “Are you alright?”

Bae shook his head. “I don’t know. But I will be.”

Becky wrapped her arm around Bae’s waist and he leaned into her embrace.

“What now?” asked Regina.

“Now,” said Emma, “Go home. Both of you. Lock yourselves in. As soon as I’ve got things sorted out here,” she gestured at the town at large, “I’ll come find you and make sure you’re safe. I will keep my promise. Trust me.”

Regina nodded tersely. “I have no choice. Come soon. I don’t care for uncertainty.” She and Henry headed off in one direction.

Emma took Killian’s hand and led him in the other.

~

Emma clung to Killian’s hand as they walked. She never wanted to let him go again—not with Rumplestiltskin out for blood. The look he’d shot Killian before walking away sent a chill down her spine.

As they strode through the town they saw dazed people milling everywhere—doubtless in search of long lost family and friends.

Her eyes darted everywhere, searching for the faces that she knew had to be coming. When they reached the turn to Granny’s Diner, she saw them. Mary Margaret—Snow White—with her arm around a man dressed in a hospital gown and robe. Her parents.

Trailing behind them were all the dwarves, Granny, and Red Riding Hood.

“This is it, love,” said Killian, giving her hand a squeeze. “Are you ready?”

“No,” she said honestly. “But I don’t have much choice, do I?”

When her parents caught sight of her they started jogging toward her, coming to a halt only a few feet away. She squeezed Killian’s hand even tighter as she stared at those unfamiliar faces that somehow looked so much like her own.

“Emma,” breathed Snow in a voice filled with wonder. “You found us. You saved us.” Her eyes overflowed with tears, and before Emma knew what was happening her mother’s arms were around her, holding her close. With a slight jolt her father joined in the embrace.

“I never thought I’d see this day,” he whispered.

Emma had no idea what to think or feel. She just read her parents’ story last night. They were still fairytales to her—yet here they were having a group hug.

Eventually they let go and stepped back, giving her room to breathe. Tears still stood in her mother’s eyes. “You’re so beautiful and so strong. You’ve grown into an amazing woman, Emma.”

Emma took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “I… thank you.”

Her mother forced a smile. “And you came with friends?” she asked, sounding a tad bewildered.

“Well… yeah.” Emma smiled back. “That’s kind of a long story. I guess I had a knack for attracting attention from other exiles from your home-realm. This,” she gestured at the cluster of people around her, “is my family. I wouldn’t be here today without them—and most of them come from your land.”

Her father’s eyes went wide, (God, was she really already thinking of them as her mother and father?) “Really? That’s extraordinary.”

Emma glanced over at Ingrid. She looked sick to her stomach. “Yeah,” Emma said, turning back to her newfound parents. “It is extraordinary. And so are they.”

First she stepped toward August. “This is someone you might remember. He goes by August, now, but back in your land he was called Pinocchio.”

Her mother’s mouth hung open. “Is it really you? How?”

“My father sent me through the cabinet before sending it to you,” August said. “Don’t blame him for it—please. He only wanted to save me from the curse.”

Emma nodded in agreement. “And I’m so glad he was there. He was like an older brother and a step-father all at once.” She shifted to take Ingrid’s arm in hers. “And this is Ingrid—she’s from your realm, too. I was in foster care for the first half of my life, always being shuffled from house to house. But when I was fourteen, Ingrid was my foster mother, and she adopted me. I owe her more than I can say. I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without her.” She held Ingrid’s gaze and smiled, trying to reassure her. Ingrid would _always_ be family, no matter what.

To her surprise—and Ingrid’s—Mary Margaret strode forward and took Ingrid’s hand. “Thank you. You were there for Emma when I couldn’t be. Thank you so much for taking her in and loving her. I’m so happy she had someone to be her mother.” Her voice shook with sorrow for the opportunity she’d lost, but Emma could tell she was being completely sincere.

“It was my pleasure,” Ingrid replied, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Nothing in my life has ever made me happier than being Emma’s family.”

Emma’s two mothers beamed at each other, and she felt like her heart couldn’t possibly get fuller. But she still hadn’t introduced her full family.

“And—and this is Bae. Baelfire,” she said, gesturing. “He’s been like the little brother I always wanted. And this is Becky, his girlfriend. She’s not from your world—she’s from this one—so all this is a little new to her. But she is absolutely amazing. I was so happy when Bae brought her into our family.” Bae and Becky smiled and nodded.

“And this,” said Emma, stepping back to Emma and taking his hand, “is Bae’s adopted father, Killian. He’s—”

Her mother stepped toward her with a smile that positively glowed. “—your true love,” she finished Emma’s sentence.

Killian grinned and gave a half bow. “I do have that honor, yes.”

Emma floundered for a response. “I…how…?”

Her father stepped forward. “We felt the rush of magic that only comes from a True Love’s Kiss. We’ll always know that magic when we feel it.” He took his wife’s hand and smiled down at her. “We have a little experience with it.”

Emma laughed. “Yeah. I guess you do.” Maybe she wasn’t so different from her fairytale parents, after all.

Her parents looked over Emma’s odd collection of found-family, smiling with genuine affection. Her mother spoke up. “I am so grateful to all of you for finding our Emma and making her happy. And if you’re her family, then I guess you’re our family, too. I can’t wait to get to know you. All of you.” On her last sentence she caught Emma’s gaze and held it, offering a wistful smile.

Yeah. There was a lot of catching up to do.

“What’s that?” cried one of the dwarves.

Emma blinked and turned to look. She gasped. A glowing purple cloud was slowing rolling over the town, enveloping everything in its path.

“That’s magic,” said Ingrid, her voice soft but cutting. “I feel it. Somehow magic is coming to Storybrooke.”

A million thoughts and a million worries dashed through Emma’s head, and she gripped Killian’s hand even tighter. “What’s going to happen? What are we going to do?”

Ingrid shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Killian lifted his chin. “Whatever that magic brings with it, we’ll make it through. Because we’ll face it together.”

“As a family,” said Mary Margaret, once more catching Emma’s gaze.

Emma reached out with her free hand to grasp Ingrid’s hand, and smiled at both her parents. “Yeah. I guess we will.”

The purple cloud rolled over all of them, but Emma held her head high. 

She was ready.

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no intention of ever writing any more stories in this particular alternate universe, but if you want to come chat with me about head canons for this AU go ahead and message me at my Tumblr, meduimsizedfountain. Thanks again for reading!


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